The ancients understood the regulation of power better than the regulation of liberty.

We are a most solitary people, and we live, repelled by one another, in the gray, outcast cities of Cain.

What is most appalling in an F. Scott Fitzgerald book is that it is peopleless fiction: Fitzgerald writes about spectral, muscledsuits; dresses, hats, and sleeves which have some sort of vague, libidinous throb. These are plainly the product of sickness.

Hardly a book of human worth, be it heaven's own secret, is honestly placed before the reader; it is either shunned, given a Periclean funeral oration in a hundred and fifty words, or interred in the potter's field of the newspapers back pages.

I would rather take hellebore than spend a conversation with a good, little man.

Every decision you make is a mistake.

Narcissus never wrote well nor was a friend.