Sorrow was like the wind. It came in gusts.
A fine quotation is a diamond on the finger of a man of wit, and a pebble in the hand of a fool.
People were still cramming down the stairs, and more were squeezing past the turnstiles and down the escalators onto the platforms, but it was clear to me that this wasn't going to have a happy ending.
I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.
It is better to wear out than to rust out.
Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.