Life is a foreign language; all men mispronounce it.

New York, the nation's thyroid gland.

It is unfair to blame man too fiercely for being pugnacious; he learned the habit from Nature.

There is no mistaking a real book when one meets it. It is like falling in love, and like that colossal adventure it is an experience of great social import. Even as the tranced swain, the booklover yearns to tell others of his bliss. He writes letters about it, adds it to the postscript of all manner of communications, intrudes it into telephone messages, and insists on his friends writing down the title of the find. Like the simple-hearted betrothed, once certain of his conquest

When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life.

Truth and Beauty (perhaps Keats was wrong in identifying them: perhaps they have the relation of Wit and Humour, or Rain and Rainbow) are of interest only to hungry people. There are several kinds of hunger. If Socrates, Spinoza, and Santayana had had free access to a midnight icebox we would never have heard of them. Shall I be ashamed of my little mewing truths?... I ask to be forgiven: they are such tiny ones.

From now until the end of time no one else will ever see life with my eyes, and I mean to make the best of my chance.