There is a cheap literature that speaks to us of the need of escape. It is true that when we travel we are in search of distance. But distance is not to be found. It melts away. And escape has never led anywhere. The moment a man finds that he must play the races, go the Arctic, or make war in order to feel himself alive, that man has begin to spin the strands that bind him to other men and to the world. But what wretched strands! A civilization that is really strong fills man to the brim, though he never stir. What are we worth when motionless, is the question.

My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant.

If I had fifty-three minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water.

He who never says "no" is no true man.

Grown ups are certainly very strange.

True happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new.

Let your dream devour your life, not your life devour your dream.