The past is an old armchair in the attic, the present an ominous ticking sound, and the future is anybody's guess.

Sixty minutes of thinking of any kind is bound to lead to confusion and unhappiness.

Most of the faint intimations of immortality of which we are occasionally aware would seem to arise out of Art or the materials of Art.

Every time is a time for comedy in a world of tension that would languish without it. But I cannot confine myself to lightness in a period of human life that demands light. We all know that, as the old adage has it, "It is later than you think." But I also say occasionally: "It is lighter than you think." In this light let's not look back in anger, or forward in fear, but around in awareness.

I have the reputation for having read all of Henry James. Which would argue a misspent youth and middle age.

Time is for dragonflies and angels. The former live too little and the latter live too long.

The trouble with the lost generation is that it didn't get lost enough.