The Writer Must Hew The Phantom Rock.

There Are Those Who Know And Those Who Don't Know. And For Every Ten Thousand Who Don't Know There's Only One Who Knows. That's The Miracle Of All Time--the Fact That These Millions Know So Much But Don't Know This.

The Closest Thing To Being Cared For Is To Care For Someone Else.

It Is Music That Causes The Heart To Broaden And The Listener To Grow Cold With Ecstasy And Fright.

The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter.

In His Face There Came To Be A Brooding Peace That Is Seen Most Often In The Faces Of The Very Sorrowful Or The Very Wise. But Still He Wandered Through The Streets Of The Town, Always Silent And Alone.