I don't like being successful; the subjects which sit in my head are annoyed and jealous of what has already been written.

In my head there is a whole army of people asking to be let out and waiting for the word of command.

There is nothing more vulgar than a petty bourgeois life with its halfpence, its victuals, its futile talk, and its useless conventional virtue.

You've only got to begin to do anything to find out how few honest, honourable people there are. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I think: "Oh Lord, you've given us huge forests, infinite fields, and endless horizons, and we, living here, ought really to be giants.

If you are afraid of loneliness, do not marry.

Then I feel so happy and at the same time so sad, it's unimaginable.

We old bachelors smell like dogs, do we? So be it. But I must take issue with your claim that doctors who treat female illnesses are womanizers and cynics at heart. Gynecologists deal with savage prose the likes of which you have never dreamed of.