In plucking the fruit of memory one runs the risk of spoiling its bloom, especially if it has got to be carried into the market.

For there is nothing mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself, which is the mistress of his existence.

This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man will never on his heap of mud keep still.

I sit down religiously every morning, I sit down for eight hours every day - and the sitting down is all.

The revolutionary spirit is mighty convenient in this, that it frees one from all scruples as regards ideas.

I always went my own road and on my own legs where I had a mind to go

The artist in his calling of interpreter creates because he must. He is so much of a voice that, for him, silence is like death