Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes. Anything might be done in that time. Anything. Nothing. Oh, he had had hundreds of hours, and what had he done with them? Wasted them, spilt the precious minutes as though his reservoir were inexhaustible.

The deepest sin against the human mind is to believe things without evidence.

I'm sick. I've eaten civilisation and I'm sick.

If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time.

The trouble with fiction," said John Rivers, "is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense.

Morality is always the product of terror; its chains and strait-waistcoats are fashioned by those who dare not trust others, because they dare not trust themselves, to walk in liberty.

The consistent thinker, the consistently moral man, is either a walking mummy or else, if he has not succeeded in stifling all his vitality, a fanatical monomaniac.