Fame is an illusive thing - here today, gone tomorrow. The fickle, shallow mob raises its heroes to the pinnacle of approval today and hurls them into oblivion tomorrow at the slightest whim; cheers today, hisses tomorrow; utter forgetfulness in a few months.

We must get going. Tomorrow, tomorrow.

Think only what is right there, what is right under your nose to do. It's such a simple thing - that's why people can't do it.

Imagination is the voice of the daring.

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

Analysis brings no curative powers in its train; it merely makes us conscious of the existence of an evil, which, oddly enough, is consciousness.

The man who is forever disturbed about the condition of humanity either has no problems of his own or has refused to face them.