Greatness is a road leading towards the unknown.
The French have a phrase for it. The bastards have a phrase for everything and they are always right. To say goodbye is to die a little.
It seemed like a nice neighborhood to have bad habits in.
Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. . . He is the hero, he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor, by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world
I'm an occasional drinker, the kind of guy who goes out for a beer and wakes up in Singapore with a full beard.
To say goodbye is to die a little.
It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window.
Cooking is great, love is grand, but souffles fall and lovers come and go. But you can always depend on a book!
The grotesque prudishness and archness with which garlic is treated in [England] has led to the superstition that rubbing the bowl with it before putting the salad in gives sufficient flavor. It rather depends whether you are going to eat the bowl or the salad.
The Father and the Son have one Will, and that Will is the Holy Ghost, Who gives Himself to the soul so that the Divine Nature permeates the powers of the soul so that it can only do God-like works.
Life, as the signs in the liquor stores say, is too short to drink bad wine. And summer is too short to read bad books.