Spring Was Running In A Thin Green

... In The Nineteen-thirties ... The Most Casual Reader Of Murder Mysteries Could Infallibly Detect The Villain, As Soon As There Entered A Character Who Had Recently Washed His Neck And Did Not Commit Mayhem On The English Language.

Youth Is The Season Of Tragedy And Despair. Youth Is The Time When One's Whole Life Is Entangled In A Web Of Identity, In A Perpetual Maze Of Seeking And Of Finding, Of Passion And Of Disillusion, Of Vague Longings And Of Nameless Griefs, Of Pity That Is A Blade In The Heart, And Of 'all The Little Emptiness Of Love.

... The Ordinary Is Simply The Universal Observed From The Surface, That The Direct Approach To Reality Is Not Without, But Within. Touch Life Anywhereand You Will Touch Universality Wherever You Touch The Earth.

I Liked Human Beings, But I Did Not Love Human Nature.

Youth Is Always An Enemy To The Old.