I have always felt like an artist when I work on a book. I see no reason why the word should always be confined to writers of fiction and poetry.

The story and study of the past, both recent and distant, will not reveal the future, but it flashes beacon lights along the way and it is a useful nostrum against despair.

Strong prejudices in an ill-formed mind are hazardous to government, and when combined with a position of power even more so.

After absorbing the news of today, one expects to face a world consisting entirely of strikes, crimes, power failures, broken water mains, stalled trains, school shutdowns, muggers, drug addicts, neo-Nazis, and rapists. The fact is that one can come home in the evening, on a lucky day, without having encountered more than one or two of these phenomena.

The costliest myth of our time has been the myth of the Communist monolith.

The Germans could not get over the perfidy of it. It was unbelievable that the English, having degenerated to the stage where suffragettes heckled the Prime Minister and defied the police, were going to fight.

I have always been in a condition in which I cannot not write.