For a very long time everybody refuses and then almost without a pause almost everybody accepts.

One of the pleasant things those of us who write or paint do is to have the daily miracle. It does come.

The deepest thing in any one is the conviction of the bad luck that follows boasting.

How likely are definitions to be pleasurable.

The nineteenth century was completely lacking in logic, it had cosmic terms and hopes, and aspirations, and discoveries, and ideals but it had no logic.

I really do not know that anything has ever been more exciting than diagramming sentences.

Every day is a renewal, every morning the daily miracle. This joy you feel is life.