I regard writing not as an investigation of character but as an exercise in the use of language, and with this I am obsessed.

I'm one of the blind alleys off the main road of procreation.

Limbo is the place. In Limbo one has natural happiness without the beatific vision; no harps; no communal order; but wine and conversation and imperfect, various humanity. Limbo for the unbaptized, for the pious heathen, the sincere sceptic.

These memories, which are my life--for we possess nothing certainly except the past--were always with me.

The audiences certainly have declined. If I go to the theatre now I find people come there to eat and smoke and talk to one another. And look like scarecrows.

The great charm in argument is really finding one's own opinions, not other people's.

I do not believe the expenditure of $2.50 for a book entitles the purchaser to the personal friendship of the author.