It is easy to be nice, even to an enemy — from lack of character.

Against the outcrop boulders of a raised beach We built our house when I and my love were young.

I aint a communist necessarily, but I been in the red all my life.

The sky itself is the eighth color of the rainbow, spread over the whole sky for us, all the time.

Oh, I would probably have raised more hell.

The illusion that times that were are better than those that are, has probably pervaded all ages.

If you want to succeed, double your failure rate.

A witty illustration or an apt story will accomplish more than columns of argument.

Trees don’t grow to the sky.

Even if surrounded with explanations, Auschwitz can never be grasped.