There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.

The dread of loneliness is greater than the fear of bondage, so we get married.

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.

I review novels to make money, because it is easier for a sluggard to write an article a fortnight than a book a year, because the writer is soothed by the opiate of action, the crank by posing as a good journalist, and having an air hole. I dislike it. I do it and I am always resolving to give it up.

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

The true function of a writer is to produce a masterpiece and no other task is of any consequence.

No city should be too large for a man to walk out of in a morning.