Morality in the novel is the trembling instability of the balance. When the novelist puts his thumb in the scale, to pull down the balance to his own predilection, that is immorality.

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

Literary criticism can be no more than a reasoned account of the feeling produced upon the critic by the book he is criticising.

In masturbation there is nothing but loss.

I love you, rotten, Delicious rottenness. ...wonderful are the hellish experiences, Orphic, delicate Dionysos of the Underworld.

No man is a man unless to his woman he is a pioneer.

Unless one decorates one's house for oneself alone, best leave it bare, for other people are walleyed.