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

You're spending your life without renewing it. You've got to be amused, properly healthily amused. You're spending your vitality without making any. Can't go on you know. Depression! Avoid depression!

All that we know is nothing, we are merely crammed wastepaper baskets, unless we are in touch with that which laughs at all our knowing.

If a woman hasn't got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she's a dry stick as a rule.

One might talk about the sanity of the atom the sanity of space the sanity of the electron the sanity of water- For it is all alive and has something comparable to that which we call sanity in ourselves. The only oneness is the oneness of sanity.

Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled, made nothing? Are you willing to be made nothing? Dipped into oblivion? If not, you will never really change.

In every great novel, who is the hero all the time? Not any of the characters, but some unnamed and nameless flame behind them all.