Melancholy and remorse forms the deep leaden keel which enables us to sail into the wind of reality.

Fallen leaves lying on the grass in the November sun bring more happiness than the daffodils.

Civilization is an active deposit which is formed by the combustion of the Present with the Past. Neither in countries without a Present nor in those without a Past is it to be discovered.

When even despair ceases to serve any creative purpose, then surely we are justified in suicide.

We may assume that we keep people waiting symbolically because we do not wish to see them and that our anxiety is due not to being late, but to having to see them at all.

Hate is crystallized fear, fear's dividend, fear objectivized. We hate what we fear and so where hate is, fear will be lurking.

The shock, for an intelligent writer, of discovering for the first time that there are people younger than himself who think him stupid is severe.