We are all the judges and the judged, victims of the casual malice and fantasy of others, and ready sources of fantasy and malice in our turn. And if we are sometimes accused of sins of which we are innocent, are there not also other sins of which we are guilty and of which the world knows nothing?

All art is the struggle to be, in a particular sort of way, virtuous.

Human affairs are not serious, but they have to be taken seriously.

The bicycle is the most civilized conveyance known to man. Other forms of transport grow daily more nightmarish. Only the bicycle remains pure in heart.

Real worship involves waiting.

We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.

A letter is a barrier, a reprieve, a charm against the world, an almost infallible method of acting at a distance.