Work. Don't Think. Relax. - Ray Bradbury

Hers was simply not a pew-shaped spine. “I just never had a reason ever to sit in a church,” she had told people. She wasn’t vehement about it. She just walked around and lived and moved her hands that were pebble-smooth and pebble-small. Work had polished the nails of those hands with a polish you could never buy in a bottle. The touching of children had made them soft, and the raising of children had made them temperately stern, and the loving of a husband had made them gentle.

“You implying I’m a mile off from the truth?”
“I’m only implying,” Cardiff said, “that we are at a taffy pull. I’m waiting to see how far you pull it.”

Q: How many times have people attempted to ban your work?
RB: Very rarely, occasionally by little frogs in little puddles. It’s never anything serious. This comes up in any society where people have different opinions. You’re a Catholic and I’m a Baptist and we may have problems. If you’re a homosexual and I’m heterosexual, we may have problems. You’re black and I’m white. You’ve got all these differences and people get sensitive and they want to change all the books. And you have to tell them to go sit down somewhere.