The Maker of the universe with stars a hundred thousand light-years apart was interested, furious, and very personal about it if a small boy played baseball on Sunday afternoon.

The cocktail filled him with a whirling exhilaration behind which he was aware of devastating desires—to rush places in fast motors, to kiss girls, to sing, to be witty. ... He perceived that he had gifts of profligacy which had been neglected.

—chapter 8

There are two insults no human being will endure: that he has no sense of humor, and that he has never known trouble

There are two insults no human being will endure: that he has no sense of humor, and that he has never known trouble.

When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, There's just something about you that pisses me off.

He died not for men, but for each man. If each man had been the only man made, He would have done no less.