To live without killing is a thought which could electrify the world, if men were only capable of staying awake long enough to let the idea soak in.

When you know what men are capable of you marvel neither at their sublimity nor their baseness. There are no limits in either direction apparently.

But it's just because the chances are all against you, just because there is so little hope, that life is sweet over here.

In expanding the field of knowledge we but increase the horizon of ignorance.

People used to envy me my inspiration. I hate inspiration. It takes you over completely. I could never wait until it passed and I got rid of it.

What I secretly longed for was to disentangle myself of all those lives which had woven themselves into the pattern of my own life and were making my destiny a part of theirs. To shake myself free of these accumulating experiences which were mine only by force of inertia required a violent effort. Now and then I lunged and tore at the net, but only to become more enmeshed. My liberation seemed to involve pain and suffering to those near and dear to me. Every move I made for my own private good brought about reproach and condemnation. I was a traitor a thousand times over.

Every man is working out his destiny in his own way and nobody can be of any help except by being kind, generous, and patient.