Words are dangerous things.

Mere words will not do. They must convey the color, charm, and pulse of life. They must have a private twinkle of wit in them that makes a good-natured noise like laughter through the keyhole of the reader's mind.

Maybe I shall never achieve happiness, but one thing I have had - the terrible wisdom of love.

There is something in the quality of the French mind to which I have always felt a reluctant kinship. They are the only people I know who can leap into an enormous vocabulary of words and beat them up with the wings of their spirit into a fine hysterical eloquence.

This is the wonderful thing about the pure in heart--they do see God.

sanity, in my opinion, is an achievement. I have seen very few well-balanced people in my life who were not dunces.

war is a ferocious form of insanity. Nothing can justify it.