She stood at the window, her arms spread wide, holding on to each side of the frame, it was as if she held a piece of the city.

If capitalism had never existed, any honest humanitarian should have been struggling to invent it. But when you see men struggling to evade its existence, to misrepresent its nature, and to destroy its last remnants - you maybe sure that whatever their motives, love of man is not one of them.

Talent alone is helpless today. Any success requires both talent and luck. And the 'luck' has to be helped along and provided by someone.

Every man builds his world in his own image; he has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice. If he abdicates his power, he abdicates the status of man, and the grinding chaos of the irrational is what he achieves as his sphere of existence—by his own choice.

You don't love causes. You don't love everybody indiscriminately. You love only those who deserve it.

If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing.

All life is a purposeful struggle, and your only choice is the choice of a goal.