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

I believe one would write better if the climate were bad. If there were a lot of wind and storms for example.

If Men and Women took their Pleasures as noisily as the Cats, what Londoner could ever hope to sleep of nights?

If it were not for the intellectual snobs who pay - in solid cash - the arts would perish with their starving practitioners. Let us thank heaven for hypocrisy.

There's only one effectively redemptive sacrifice, the sacrifice of self-will to make room for the knowledge of God.

The present moment is the only aperture through which the soul can pass out of time into eternity, through which grace can pass out of eternity into the soul, and through which love can pass from one soul in time to another soul in time.

Somewhere in the rain, there will always be an abandoned dog that prevents you from being happy.