Who is there who has not felt a sudden startled pang at reliving an old experience or feeling an old emotion?

Nothing, I believe, is so full of life under the microscope as a drop of water from a stagnant pool.

I would like it to be said that I was a good writer of detective and thriller stories.

Juliet singles out Romeo. Desdemona claims Othello. They have no doubts, the young, no fear, no pride.

It's what's in *yourself* that makes you happy or unhappy.

I don't think necessity is the mother of invention. Invention, in my opinion, arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness - to save oneself trouble.

There is nothing more thrilling in this world, I think, than having a child that is yours, and yet is mysteriously a stranger.