And habits are hell's own substitute for good intentions. Habits are the ruin of ambition, of initiative , of imagination. They're the curse of marriage and the after-bane of death.

I would give you my soul in a blackberry pie; and a knife to cut it with.

Music, the knife without a hilt.

After I convinced them that I was a harmless novelist, I actually got them to give me a tour of the harem - which is usually off limits for tourists.

A man of over thirty might be held to be at the height of his powers, but not necessarily of his wisdom.

He regards boredom, I observe, as the One and Mighty Enemy of his soul. And will succeed in conquering it, I am sure—if he survives the experience.

Lack of genius never held anyone back. Only time wasted on resentment and daydreaming can do that.