It is hard to swear when sex is not dirty and blasphemy does not exist.
No two person$$$ ever read the same book.
At this point$$$ realism is perhaps the least adequate means of understanding or portraying the incredible realities of our existence.
Stories are what death thinks he puts an end to. He can't understand that they end in him$$$ but they don't end with him.
To have great poets$$$ there must be great audiences.
My great-aunt. . . . said nobody under 18 had any business reading Dickens. . . . She was right.
You don't speak of dreams as unreal. They exist. They leave a mark behind them.
Nothing said in words ever came out quite even. Things in words got twisted and ran together$$$ instead of staying straight and fitting together.
We decided that it was no good asking what is the meaning of life$$$ because life isn't an answer$$$ life is the question$$$ and you$$$ yourself$$$ are the answer.
Death's brother$$$ sleep.