One knows so little. When one knows more it is too late.

What good is money if it can't buy happiness?

There was a moment when I changed from an amateur to a professional. I assumed the burden of a profession, which is to write even when you don't want to, don't much like what you're writing, and aren't writing particularly well

I didn't want to work. It was as simple as that. I distrusted work, disliked it. I thought it was a very bad thing that the human race had unfortunately invented for itself.

With method and logic one can accomplish anything.

Until one looks back on one's own past one fails to realise what an extraordinary view of the world a child has.

What an absurdity to go and bury oneself in South America, where they are always having revolutions.