... nothing, of course, is ever so strange as love to the one who is not a lover.

I suppose there is hardly any one in the civilized world - particularly of those who do just a little more every day than they really have strength to perform - who has not at some time regarded bed as a refuge.

... we condone the most bitter and vindictive intolerance from a desire to appear tolerant, and run to prove that badness is not as bad as it seems, by pointing out that goodness is not so good as it looks.

This is the difference between depression and sorrow - sorrowful, you are in great trouble because something matters so much; depressed, you are miserable because nothing really matters.

Results have nothing at all whatever to do with the private fun of being an author. There lies the answer to the problem which puzzles many wise people. Now it is plain why there are so many of us ... But the public fun of being an author is rather apt to wear thin.

An author who enjoys writing may sometimes please other people by accident, but he can never pass on to any one else the zestful thrill he feels himself.

though money is a fine servant, as a god, it does seem to develop all the evil qualities of the slave seated between the cherubim.