The splendid thing about education is that everyone wants it. Like influenza, you can give it away without losing any of it yourself.

Novel-writing is a highly skilled and laborious trade. One does not just sit behind a screen jotting down other people's conversation. One has for one's raw material every single thing one has ever seen or heard or felt, and one has to go over that vast, smoldering rubbish-heap of experience, half stifled by fumes and dust, scraping and delving until one finds a few discarded valuables. Then one has to assemble these tarnished and dented fragments, polish them, set them in order, and try to make a coherent and significant arrangement of them.

There is practically no sense that is not violated every time we return from the country or the sea to Paris or London or New York.

From the earliest times the Welsh have been looked upon as an unclean people. It is thus that they have preserved their racial integrity. Their sons and daughters rarely mate with humankind except their own blood relations.

My father and I were never intimate in the sense of my coming to him with confidences or seeking advice. Our relationship was rather that of host and guest. Perhaps host and guest is really the happiest relation for father and son.

One has to regard a man as a Master who can produce on average three uniquely brilliant and entirely original similes to every page.

The splendid thing about education is that everyone wants it. Like influenza, you can give it away without losing any of it yourself.