The world is so much larger than I thought. I thought we went along paths--but it seems there are no paths. The going itself is the path.

Those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end, for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.

All mortals tend to turn into the thing they are pretending to be. This is elementary

Men propound mathematical theorems in besieged cities, conduct metaphysical arguments in condemned cells, make jokes on the scaffold, discuss a new poem while advancing to the walls of Quebec, and comb their hair at Thermopylae. This is not panache; it is our nature.

The value of myth is that it takes all the things you know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by the veil of familiarity.

If things are real, they're there all the time.

The greatest evil is not done in those sordid dens of evil that Dickens loved to paint ... but is conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried, and minuted) in clear, carpeted, warmed, well-lighted offices, by quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voices.