If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time.

Something he knew he had missed: the flower of life. But he thought of it now as a thing so unattainable and improbable that to have repined would have been like despairing because one had not drawn the first prize in a lottery.

Once more it was borne in on him that marriage was not the safe anchorage he had been taught to think, but a voyage on uncharted seas.

The value of books is proportionate to what may be called their plasticity -- their quality of being all things to all men, of being diversely moulded by the impact of fresh forms of thought.

Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.

An education is like a crumbling building that needs constant upkeep with repairs and additions.

And you'll sit beside me, and we'll look, not at visions, but at realities.