Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so. After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns, we ourselves flash and yearn, and moreover my mother told me as a boy (repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored means you have no inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no inner resources, because I am heavy bored.

We have reason to be afraid. This is a terrible place.

Bats have no bankers and they do not drink and cannot be arrested and pay no tax and, in general, bats have it made.

We are using our own skins for wallpaper and we cannot win.

The artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him. At that point, he's in business.

Two daiquiris withdrew into a corner of a gorgeous room and one told the other a lie.

I can offer you only: this world like a knife