Towns are after all excrescences, grey fluxions, where men, hurrying to find one another, have lost themselves.

History develops, art stands still.

Give, do not lend; after death who will thank you?

Long books, when read, are usually overpraised, because the reader wishes to convince others and himself that he has not wasted his time.

I don't know what to think until I see what I've said.

Only a writer who has the sense of evil can make goodness readable.

There lies at the back of every creed something terrible and hard for which the worshipper may one day be required to suffer.