Read in order to live.
Our prisons are full of people who think they're Napoleon..or God.
1915. The year itself looks sepia and soiled-muddied like its pictures. In the snapshots everyone at first seems timid-lost-irresolute. Boys and men squinting at the camera.
I don't know what's the matter with people: they don't learn by understanding$$$ they learn by some other way -- by rote or something. Their knowledge is so fragile!
She was bored. She loved$$$ had capacity to love$$$ for love$$$ to give and accept love. Only she tried twice and failed twice to find somebody not just strong enough to deserve it$$$ earn it$$$ match it$$$ but even brave enough to accept it.
It was like something you have dreaded and feared and dodged for years until it seemed like all your life$$$ then despite everything it happened to you and all it was was just pain$$$ all it did was hurt and so it was all over$$$ all finished$$$ all right.
He was looking at her from behind the smiling that wasn't smiling but was something you were not supposed to see beyond.
A fellow is more afraid of the trouble he might have than he ever is of the trouble he's already got. He'll cling to trouble he's used to before he'll risk a change. Yes. A man will talk about how he'd like to escape from living folks. But it's the dead folks that do him the damage. It's the dead ones that lay quiet in one place and don't try to hold him$$$ that he can't escape from.
One day I was talking to Cora. She prayed for me because she believed I was blind to sin$$$ wanting me to kneel and pray too$$$ because people to whom sin is just a matter of words$$$ to them salvation is just words too.
Knowing not grieving remembers a thousand savage and lonely streets.