I find more and more that I am a man of the 1920s. I still expect something exciting. Drinks, animated conversation, gaiety: the uninhibited exchange of ideas.

Every work of art is a trick by which the artist manipulates appearances.

His style has the desperate jauntiness of an orchestra fiddling away for dear life on a sinking ship.

In a sense, one can never read the book that the author originally wrote, and one can never read the same book twice.

I have learned to read the papers calmly and not to hate the fools I read about.

Only the curious will learn and only the resolute will overcome the obstacles to learning. The quest quotient has always excited me more than the intelligence quotient.

At 60 the sexual preoccupation, when it hits you, seems sometimes sharper, as if it were an elderly malady, like gout.