Happy roads is bunk. Weary roads is right. Get you nowhere fast. That’s where I’ve got—nowhere. Where everyone lands in the end, even if most of the suckers won’t admit it.
There is no present or future-only the past, happening over and over again-now.
Censorship of anything, at any time, in any place, on whatever pretense, has always been and always will be the last resort of the boob and the bigot.
Then in the spring something happened to me. Yes, I remember. I fell in love with James Tyrone and was so happy for time.
I am so far from being a pessimist…on the contrary, in spite of my scars, I am tickled to death at life.
Dey’s some things I don’t got to be told. I kin read them in folks’ eyes.
You can’t be too careful about work. It’s the most dangerous habit known to medical science.
If dat ghost have money, I tells him never to haunt you less’n he wants to lose it!
Stay passed out, that’s the right dope. There ain’t any cool willow trees- except you grow your own in a bottle.
I’m thinking ’tis only slaves do be giving heed to the day that’s gone or the day to come.
Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.
The child was diseased at birth – stricken with an hereditary ill that only the most vital men are able to shake off. I mean poverty – the most deadly and prevalent of all diseases.
The only living life is in the past and future-the present is an interlude- strange interlude in which we call on past and future to bear witness that we are living.
There is no present or future only the past happening over and over again now.
One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers.
Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace.