The artist appeals to that part of our being which is not dependent on wisdom; to that in us which is a gift and not an acquisition-and therefore, more permanently enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives; to our sense of pity, and beauty and pain.

The Westerly Wind asserting his sway from the south-west quarter is often like a monarch gone mad, driving forth with wild imprecations the most faithful of his courtiers to shipwreck, disaster, and death.

It is my belief no man ever understands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the grim shadow of self knowledge.

Your strength is just an accident owed to the weakness of others.

The terrorist and the policeman both come from the same basket.

It is the mark of an inexperienced man not to believe in luck.

The human heart is vast enough to contain all the world.