I don't trust sentimentality in men; it goes with tyranny; you can't have one without the other.

Fearful as reality is, it is less fearful than evasions of reality. Look steadfastly into the slit, pinpointed malignant eyes of reality as an old-hand trainer dominates his wild beasts.

anybody who drinks seriously is poor: so poor, poor, extra poor, me.

... the mere thought of going near a man who is not mellowly pickled, and whose breath reeks of his native fleshy self, is squeamishly unpalatable to me.

In America they make too much fuss of poets; in London they make too little.

Sex divorced from love is the thief of personal dignity.

[On journalists:] They are the scavengers of society who, possessing no guts of their own, tear out the guts of celebrities. They have the sycophantic, false enthusing gush of maiden aunts: who are accustomed to being trampled on doormats.