К востоку от Эдема

Pretend it’s true and maybe it will be. Go through the motions.

We have only one story. All novels, all poetry, are built on the never-ending contest in ourselves of good and evil. And it occurs to me that evil must constantly respawn, while good, while virtue, is immortal. Vice has always a new fresh young face, while virtue is venerable as nothing else in the world is.

So do I, so does everyone. We gather our arms full of guilt as though it were precious stuff. It must be that we want it that way.

An unbelieved truth can hurt a man much more than a lie. It takes great courage to back truth unacceptable to our times.

shrewdness is a limitation on the mind. Shrewdness tells you what you must not do because it would not be shrewd.

whenever a human has a nickname it is a proof that the name given him was wrong.

There are no ugly questions except those clothed in condescension.

I think the difference between a lie and a story is that a story utilizes the trappings and appearance of truth for the interest of the listener as well as of the teller. A story has in it neither gain nor loss. But a lie is a device for profit or escape. I suppose if that definition is strictly held to, then a writer of stories is a liar — if he is financially fortunate.

When two events have something in common, in their natures or in time or place, we leap happily to the conclusion that they are similar and from this tendency we create magics and store them for retelling.

I love you better. I always have. This may be a bad thing to tell you, but it’s true. I love you better. Else why would I have given myself the trouble of hurting you?