The way Bernard Shaw believes in himself is very refreshing in these atheistic days when so many people believe in no God at all.

The past is for inspiration, not imitation, for continuation, not repetition.

As soon as you tolerate something, it becomes bearable, and before long it will become common.

In the din and tumult of the age, the still small voice of Jerusalem remains our only music.

New York is the great stone desert.

Every dogma has its day, but ideals are eternal.

...the wonderful poems interpreting with equal magic the romance of strange lands and times, or the modern soul, naked and unashamed, as if clothed in its own complexity; the humorous-tragic questionings of the universe; the delicious travel-pictures and fantasies; the lucid criticisms of art, and politics, and philosophy, informed with malicious wisdom, shimmering with poetry and wit.