Gods die with men who have conceived them. But the god-stuff roars eternally, like the sea, with too vast a sound to be heard.

To every man who struggles with his own soul in mystery, a book that is a book flowers once, and seeds, and is gone.

It always seemed to me that men wore their beards, like they wear their neckties, for show.

Literature is a toil and a snare, a curse that bites deep.

And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.

Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken.

For God's sake, all of you, say spiteful things about me, then I shall know I mean something to you. Don't say surgaries, or I'm done.