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.

No one appreciates the very special genius of your conversation as the dog does.

Poetry comes with anger, hunger and dismay; it does not often visit groups of citizens sitting down to be literary together, and would appal them if it did.

What is the virtue and service of a book? Only to help me live less gingerly and shabbily.

Never write up your diary on the day itself, for it takes longer than that to know what happened.

Life is a foreign language; all men mispronounce it.

A critic is a gong at a railroad crossing clanging loudly and vainly as the train goes by.