Mrs. Turpin felt entirely hollow except for her heart which swung from side to side as if it were agitated in a great empty drum of flesh

“The fiction of Ayn Rand is as low as you can get re fiction. I hope you picked …”

“His plate was full but his fists sat motionless like two dark quartz stones on …”

“I have tried imagining that the single peacock I see before me is the only one …”

“Freedom is of no use without taste and without the ordinary competence to follo…”