It's one of the great fallacies, it seems to me, that time gives much of anything but years and sadness to man.

It is strange how a man believes he can think better in a special place. I have such a place, have always had it, but I know it isn't thinking I do there, but feeling and experiencing and remembering. It's a safety place. Everyone must have one, although I never heard a man tell of it.

There ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do. It's all part of the same thing. And some of the things folks do is nice, and some ain't nice, but that's as far as any man got a right to say.

Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man.

A boy gets to be a man when a man is needed. Remember this thing. I have known boys forty years old because there was no need for a man:

A woman holds dreadful power over a man who is in love with her but she should realize that the quality and force of his love is the index of his potential contempt and hatred.

Critics are the eunuchs of literature. They stand by in envious awe while the whole man and his partner demonstrate the art of living.

All men are moral. Only their neighbors are not.

Man is the only kind of varmint sets his own trap, baits it, then steps in it.