He types his labored column — weary drudge! Senile fudge and solemn: spare, editor, to condemn these dry leaves of his autumn. – Robertson Davies
What we call luck is the inner man externalized. We make things happen to us. – Robertson Davies
Their very conservatism is secondhand, and they dont know what they are conserving. – Robertson Davies
A truly great book should be read in youth, again in maturity and once more in old age, as a fine building should be seen by morning light, at noon and by moonlight. – Robertson Davies
It was the farthest she had ever been from home, not only in miles but in feeling. The vastness of the desert frightened her. Everything looked too far away, even the cloudless sky. There was nowhere you could hide in such emptiness. – James Carlos Blake, The Rules of Wolfe: A Border Noir, 2013