Only entropy comes easy.

Nature's law says that the strong must prevent the weak from living, but only in a newspaper article or textbook can this be packaged into a comprehensible thought. In the soup of everyday life, in the mixture of minutia from which human relations are woven, it is not a law. It is a logical incongruity when both strong and weak fall victim to their mutual relations, unconsciously subservient to some unknown guiding power that stands outside of life, irrelevant to man.

Do you remember you shot a seagull? A man came by chance, saw it and destroyed it, just to pass the time.

You only have to start a job of work to realize how few decent, honest folk there are about.

Better to perish from fools than to accept praises from them.

But if you had asked him what his work was, he would look candidly and openly at you with his large bright eyes through his gold pincenez, and would answer in a soft, velvety, lisping baritone: "My work is literature."

My mistress has come home; at last I've seen her. Now I'm ready to die.