Our trouble is that we drink too much tea. I see in this the slow revenge of the Orient, which has diverted the Yellow River down our throats.

The more we elaborate our means of communication, the less we communicate.

Living in an age of advertisement, we are perpetually disillusioned. The perfect life is spread before us every day, but it changes and withers at a touch.

The people who pretend that dying is rather like strolling into the next room always leave me unconvinced. Death, like birth, must be a tremendous event.

I never read the life of any important person without discovering that he knew more and could do more than I could ever hope to know or do in half a dozen lifetimes.

One of the delights known to age, and beyond the grasp of youth, is that of Not Going.

In a world shaped and colored more and more by politicians, the nations meet politically, and hardly any other way to settle their differences.