The suitable is the last thing we ever want.

O God, let me write books! Please, God, let me write books!

It is lovely, when I forget all birthdays, including my own, to find that somebody remembers me.

... in the nineteen-thirties ... the most casual reader of murder mysteries could infallibly detect the villain, as soon as there entered a character who had recently washed his neck and did not commit mayhem on the English language.

I haven't much opinion of words. They're apt to set fire to a dry tongue, that's what I say.

The hardest thing for me is the sense of impermanence. All passes; nothing returns.

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward.