Slums may well be breeding grounds of crime, but middle class suburbs are incubators of apathy and delirium.

An aesthetic movement with a revolutionary dynamism and no popular appeal should proceed quite otherwise than by public scandal, publicity stunt, noisy expulsion and excommunication.

Idleness is only a coarse name for my infinite capacity for living in the present.

No one over thirty-five is worth meeting who has not something to teach us, something more than we could learn for ourselves, from a book.

In my religion, there would be no exclusive doctrine; all would be love, poetry, and doubt.

Dining out is a vice, a dissipation of spirit punished by remorse. We eat, drink, and talk a little too much, abuse all our friends, belch out our literary preferences and are egged on by accomplices in the audience to acts of mental exhibitionism. Such evenings cannot fail to diminish those who take part in them. They end on Monkey Hill.

Optimism and self-pity are the positive and negative poles of modern cowardice.