My thoughts seem thick, ketchup stuck in a bottle. Like trying to feel someone's face while wearing goosedown mittens.
Kevin was a shell game in which all three cups were empty.
That boy hardly needed a mask when his naked face was already impenetrable.
The secret is that there is no secret.
There is one province in which, sooner or later, virtually everyone gets dealt a leading role--hero, heroine, or villain. . . . Unlike the slight implications of quotidian dilemmas that confront the average citizen in other areas of life. . . the stakes in this realm could not be higher. For chances are that at some point along the line you will hold in your hands another person's heart. There is no greater responsibility on the planet. However you contend with this fragile organ, which pounds or seizes in accordance with your caprice, will take your full measure.
You were always uncomfortable with the rhetoric of emotion, which is quite a different matter from discomfort with emotion itself.
The existence of other people is essentially awkward.
Just as a royal rule, if not a mere name, must exist by virtue of some great personal superiority in the king, so tyranny, which is the worst of governments, is necessarily the farthest removed from a well-constituted form; oligarchy is little better, for it is a long way from aristocracy, and democracy is the most tolerable of the three.
A sketch is just a mini movie.
There are many kinds of joy, but they all lead to one: the joy to be loved.
A pure heart means a single heart, a heart in which only one desire lives: love.