Mosquito [...] had asked Ear to marry him, whereupon Ear fell on the floor in uncontrollable laughter. "How much longer do you think you will live?" she asked. "You are already a skeleton." Mosquito went away humiliated, and any time he passed her way he told Ear that he was still alive.

But I liked Yeats! That wild Irishman. I really loved his love of language, his flow. His chaotic ideas seemed to me just the right thing for a poet. Passion! He was always on the right side. He may be wrongheaded, but his heart was always on the right side. He wrote beautiful poetry.

You might as well say that the woman lies on top of the man when they are making the babies.

Art is man's constant effort to create for himself a different order of reality from that which is given to him.

There is that great proverb — that until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.

One of the truest tests of integrity is its blunt refusal to be compromised.

While we do our good works let us not forget that the real solution lies in a world in which charity will have become unnecessary.