The utter insanity of living in a place like this doesn't occur to the 9,000,000 people who inhabit New York. Except for visits I think I shall not be here any more as a resident.

Guys like us got nothing to look ahead to

I think today if we forbade our illiterate children to touch the wonderful things of our literature, perhaps they might steal them and find secret joy.

Books are the best friends you can have; they inform you, and entertain you, and they don't talk back.

Critics are the eunuchs of literature. They stand by in envious awe while the whole man and his partner demonstrate the art of living.

I have lost all sense of home, having moved about so much. It means to me now--only that place where the books are kept.

You got to live before you can afford to die.