Writers are two-home men - they want a place outside and a place within.

There is a terrible alienation in the ordinary man between what he is being told and what he secretly believes.

The more identities a man has, the more they express the person they conceal.

A good man knows when to sacrifice himself, a bad man survives but loses his soul.

I'm really a library man, or second-hand book man.

Out of date, perhaps, but who wasn't these days? Out of date, but loyal to his own time. At a certain moment, after all, every man chooses: will he go forward, will he go back? There was nothing dishounorable in not being blown about by every little modern wind. Better to have worth, to entrench, to be an oak of one's own generation.