The Sky Hides The Night Behind It

Because We Don't Know When We Will Die, We Get To Think Of Life As An Inexhaustible Well. Yet Everything Happens Only A Certain Number Of Times, And A Very Small Number Really. How Many More Times Will You Remember A Certain Afternoon Of Your Childhood, An Afternoon That Is So Deeply A Part Of Your Being That You Can't Even Conceive Of Your Life Without It? Perhaps Four Or Five Times More, Perhaps Not Even That. How Many More Times Will You Watch The Full Moon Rise? Perhaps 20. And Yet It All Seems Limitless.

No One Can Ever Heap Enough Insults Upon Me To Suit My Taste. I Think We All Really Thrive On Hostility, Because It's The Most Intense Kind Of Massage The Ego Can Undergo. Other People's Indifference Is The Only Horror.

Because Neither She Nor Port Had Ever Lived A Life Of Any Kind Of Regularity, They Had Both Made The Fatal Error Of Coming Hazily To Regard Time As Non-existent. One Year Was Like Another Year. Eventually Everything Would Happen.

The Only Effort Worth Making Is The One It Takes To Learn The Geography Of One's Own Nature.

If You Don't Know Why You Like A Thing, It Is Usually Worth Your While To Attempt To Find Out.