Plant consciousness, insect consciousness, fish consciousness, all are related by one permanent element, which we may call the religious element inherent in all life, even in a flea: the sense of wonder. That is our sixth sense, and it is the natural religious sense.

My God, what a clumsy olla putrida James Joyce is! Nothing but old fags and cabbage stumps of quotations from the Bible and the rest, stewed in the juice of deliberate, journalistic dirty-mindedness—what old and hard-worked staleness, masquerading as the all-new!

There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street.

Psychoanalysis is out, under a therapeutic disguise, to do away entirely with the moral faculty in man.

I like Australia less and less. The hateful newness, the democratic conceit, every man a little pope of perfection.

The world of men is dreaming, it has gone mad in its sleep, and a snake is strangling it, but it can't wake up.

A woman unsatisfied must have luxuries. But a woman who loves a man would sleep on a board