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Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there’s time, the Bastard Time.

I hate cameras. They are so much more sure than I am about everything.

Syntax, my lad. It has been restored to the highest place in the republic.

Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts… perhaps the fear of a loss of power.

I have never smuggled anything in my life. Why, then, do I feel an uneasy sense of guilt on approaching a customs barrier?

Sectional football games have the glory and the despair of war, and when a Texas team takes the field against a foreign state, it is an army with banners.

Time is the only critic without ambition.

Four hoarse blasts of a ship’s whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping.

Give a critic an inch, he’ll write a play.

Writers are a little below clowns and a little above trained seals.