I don't like people who tell me that I'm this and that...I don't even know myself..

The author says the earliest Australian aborigines devoted extraordinary amounts of energy to enterprises no one now can understand.

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.

What, in the end, makes advertisements superior to criticism? Not what the moving red neon says—but the fiery pool reflecting it in the asphalt.