A man is a critic when he cannot be an artist, in the same way that a man becomes an informer when he cannot be a soldier.

Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

What better occupation, really, than to spend the evening at the fireside with a book, with the wind beating on the windows and the lamp burning bright...Haven't you ever happened to come across in a book some vague notion that you've had, some obscure idea that returns from afar and that seems to express completely your most subtle feelings?

Noble characters and pure affections and happy scenes are very comforting things. They're a refuge from life's disillusionments.

May I die like a dog rather than hasten the ripening of a sentence by a single second!

Everything is there: the love of Art.

Read in order to live.