In Books We Never Find

We Do Not Fear Being Called Meticulous, Inclining As We Do To The View That Only The Exhaustive Can Be Truly Interesting.

A Solitary, Unused To Speaking Of What He Sees And Feels, Has Mental Experiences Which Are At Once More Intense And Less Articulate Than Those Of A Gregarious Man.

The Books And Magazines Streamed In. He Could Buy Them All, They Piled Up Around Him And Even While He Read, The Number Of Those Still To Be Read Disturbed Him. … They Stood In Rows, Weighing Down His Life Like A Possession Which He Did Not Succeed In Subordinating To His Personality.

People's Behavior Makes Sense If You Think About It In Terms Of Their Goals, Needs, And Motives.

Time Has No Divisions To Mark Its Passage, There Is Never A Thunder-storm Or Blare Of Trumpets To Announce The Beginning Of A New Month Or Year. Even When A New Century Begins It Is Only We Mortals Who Ring Bells And Fire Off Pistols.