Dogs are obsessed with being happy.

Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.

Humourists lead... an existence of jumpiness and apprehension. They sit on the edge of the chair of Literature. In the house of Life they have the feeling that they have never taken off their overcoats.

My grandmother lived the latter years of her life in the horrible suspicion that electricity was dripping invisibly all over the house. It leaked, she contended, out of empty sockets if the wall switch had been left on. She would go around screwing in bulbs, and if they lighted up, she would fearfully turn off the wall switch and go back to her Pearson's or Everybody's, happy in the satisfaction that she had stopped not only a costly but dangerous leakage. nothing could ever clear this up for her.

All men should strive to learn before they die, what they are running from, and to, and why.

I myself have known some profoundly thoughtful dogs.

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