Women thought me charmingly shy, and sometimes stopped at nothing to “penetrate the disdainful shell of my fear,” as one of their number put it. Often as not, it was they who got penetrated. The Floating Opera (1956)
[N]othing is intrinsically valuable; the value of everything is attributed to it, assigned to it, from outside, by people. The Floating Opera (1956)
[I]t is sometimes pleasant to stone a martyr, no matter how much we may admire him. The Floating Opera (1956)