The American language is in a state of flux based upon survival of the unfittest.

In a perfect union the man and woman are like a strung bow. Who is to say whether the string bends the bow, or the bow tightens the string?

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

We create the world in which we live; if that world becomes unfit for human life, it is because we tire of our responsibility.

It is a mistake to expect good work from expatriates for it is not what they do that matters but what they are not doing.

The true work of art is the one which the seventh wave of genius throws up the beach where the undertow of time cannot drag it back.

Beneath a mask of selfish tranquility nothing exists except bitterness and boredom. I am one of those whom suffering has made empty and frivolous: each night in my dreams I pull the scab off a wound; each day, vacuous and habit-ridden, I help it re-form.