I cannot cure myself of that most woeful of youth's follies - thinking that those who care about us will care for the things that mean much to us.

Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it! For you will need it. For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.

He who gets nearer the sun is leader, the aristocrat of aristocrats, or he who, like Dostoevsky, gets nearest the moon of our non-being.

I will wait and watch till the day of David at last shall be finished, and wisdom no more fox-faced, and the blood gets back its flame.

It seems to me that the chief thing about a woman - who is much of a woman - is that in the long run she is not to be had... She is not to be caught by any of the catch-words, love, beauty, honor, duty, worth, work, salvation - none of them - not in the long run. In the long run she only says Am I satisfied, or is there some beastly dissatisfaction gnawing and gnawing inside me. And if there is some dissatisfaction, it is physical, at least as much as psychic, sex as much as soul.

Money is our madness, our vast collective madness.

The Christian fear of the pagan outlook has damaged the whole consciousness of man.