My bitterness is not an abstract substance, it is as solid as a Christmas cake; I can cut it in slices and hand it round and there is still plenty left, for tomorrow.

Between threading a needle and raving insanity is the smallest eye in creation.

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.

there is no gaiety as gay as the gaiety of grief.

[On journalists:] ... however lyingly libellous they may be: nobody can seriously hurt the reputation of a Great person. If he is hurt: he is not Great. They can but scratch at his skin with their mice nails.

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

One should never go back to a place one has loved; for, however, rough the going forward is, it is better than the snuffing out-of-love return.