Self-pity is essentially humorless, devoid of that lightness of touch which gives understanding of life.

You have to be a product of the product.

When people really hate one another, the tension within them can sometimes make itself felt throughout a room, like atmospheric waves, first hot, then cold, wafted backwards and forwards as if in an invisible process of air conditioning, creating a pervasive physical disturbance.

For reasons not always at the time explicable, there are specific occasions when events begin suddenly to take on a significance previously unsuspected, so that, before we really know where we are, life seems to have begun in earnest at last, and we ourselves, scarcely aware that any change has taken place, are careering uncontrollably down the slippery avenues of eternity.

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

I get a warm feeling among my books.

He fell in love with himself at first sight and it is a passion to which he has always remained faithful. Selflove seems so often unrequited.