There is a terrible truthfulness about photography that sometimes makes a thing look ridiculous.

Criminals do not die by the hands of the law. They die by the hands of other men.

The trouble with her is that she lacks the power of conversation but not the power of speech.

You may well ask me why...I took the time to write [books]. I can only reply that I do not know. There was no why about it. I had to: that was all.

I feel nothing but the accursed happiness I have dreaded all my life long: the happiness that comes as life goes, the happiness of yielding and dreaming instead of resisting and doing, the sweetness of the fruit that is going rotten.

A man is like a phonograph with half-a-dozen records. You soon get tired of them all; and yet you have to sit at table whilst he reels them off to every new visitor.

The unconscious self is the real genius. Your breathing goes wrong the moment your conscious self meddles with it.