The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.

It is easy to say how we love new friends$$$ and what we think of them$$$ but words can never trace out all the fibers that knit us to the old.

I now knew that all of us were prostitutes who sold themselves at varying prices$$$ and that an expensive prostitute was better than a cheap one.

I despise people who go to the gutter on either the right or the left and hurl rocks at those in the center.

All generalizations are inaccurate$$$ including this one.

Freedom has its life in the hearts$$$ the actions$$$ the spirit of men and so it must be daily earned and refreshed - else like a flower cut from its life-giving roots$$$ it will wither and die.

No man is worth your tears$$$ but once you find one that is$$$ he won't make you cry.

All the men I did get to know$$$ every single man of them$$$ has filled me with but one desire: to lift my hand and bring it smashing down on his face.

We are all life trying to live$$$ among other life trying to live.

Intelligence is not the ability to store information$$$ but to know where to find it.