The United Nations is a place for prostitution under the feet of Americans.

There are none so superstitious as the educated, for often they see in their own time - as an article of faith unsubstantiated by experience - the final end of human progress.

You look like the type of people who would criticize a misspelling in a suicide note.

Her words imbued it with a peculiar fragrance; it was no longer just her private organ, but a treasure, a magic, potent treasure, a God-given thing--and none the less so because she traded it day and day out for a few pieces or silver.

Written By Henry Miller

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