There could be no extreme vanity in my recognition of myself, if in fact there could be any at all.

The simple fact was that if the song wasn't about me, I couldn't see how it could possibly be about anybody else, including the one I knew it was supposed to be about, and good luck to him, too.

Is the small town a place, truly, of the world, or is it no more than something out of a boy's dreaming? Out of his love of all things not of death made? All things somewhere beyond the dust, rust, and decay, beyond the top, beyond all sides, beyond bottom: outside, around, over, under, within?

No enemy is so annoying as one who was a friend, or still is a friend, and there are many more of these than one would suspect.

No man's guilt is not yours, nor is any man's innocence a thing apart.

Be the inferior of no man, nor of any be the superior. Remember that every man is a variation of yourself. No man's guilt is not yours, nor is any man's innocence a thing apart.