I'm a bit retarded, like most Americans.

That we cannot rise equal to situations when we are in them — that is the tragedy of life.

And there is a time, glorious too in its own way, when one scarcely exists, when one is a complete void. I mean, when boredom seems the very stuff of life.

To the man whose senses are alive and alert there is not even the need to stir from one's threshold.

New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer.

The purpose of life is to remember.

Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.