The pleasures of ignorance are as great, in their way, as the pleasures of knowledge.

People travel for the same reason as they collect works of art: because the best people do it.

An ideal is merely the projection, on an enormously enlarged scale, of some aspect of personality.

All that happens means something; nothing you do is ever insignificant.

All gods are homemade, and it is we who pull their strings, and so, give them the power to pull ours.

Both of us victims of the same twentieth-century plague. Not the Black Death, this time; the Gray Life.

Our vanity makes us exaggerate the importance of human life; the individual is nothing; Nature cares only for the species.