He had a mania for washing and disinfecting himself. . . . For him the only danger came from the microbes that attacked the body. He had not studied the microbe of conscience which eats into the soul.

The bed must be a beautiful place, not only because you make love there but because you dream there as well.

We love best those who are, or act for us, a self we do not wish to be or act out.

The final lesson a writer learns is that everything can nourish the writer.

A trite word is an overused word which has lost its identity like an old coat in a second-hand shop. The familiar grows dull and we no longer see, hear, or taste it.

The way to recognize a dead word is that it exudes boredom.

We are going to the moon that is not very far. Man has so much farther to go within himself.