Our memories are card indexes consulted and then returned in disorder by authorities whom we do not control.

Most people do not believe in anything very much and our greatest poetry is given to us by those who do.

A writer is in danger of allowing his talent to dull who lets more than a year go past without finding himself in his rightful place of composition, the small single unluxurious retreat of the twentieth century, the hotel bedroom.

The true index of a man's character is the health of his wife.

The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication.

There are only three things which make life worth living: to be writing a tolerably good book, to be in a dinner party of six, and to be traveling south with someone whom your conscience permits you to love.

Everyone has the right to express an opinion. No one has the right to be listened to.