Gloom and solemnity are entirely out of place in even the most rigorous study of an art originally intended to make glad the heart of man.

Literature does not exist in a vacuum. Writers as such have a definite social function exactly proportional to their ability as writers. This is their main use.

Man is an over-complicated organism. If he is doomed to extinction he will die out for want of simplicity.

The art of letters will come to an end before A.D. 2000. I shall survive as a curiosity.

The serious artist must be as open as nature. Nature does not give all of herself in a paragraph. She is rugged and not set apart into discreet categories.

The worst mistake I made was that stupid, suburban prejudice of anti-Semitism.

This is no book. Whoever touches this touches a man.