To be human is erroneous.

A healthy man is content with a woman. An erotic man is content with a stocking to get to a woman. A sick man is content with thestocking.

A snob is unreliable. The work he praises might just be good.

The press, that goiter of the world, swells up with the desire for conquest and bursts with the achievements which every day brings. A week has room for the boldest climax of the human drive for expansion.

When I don't make any progress, it is because I have bumped into the wall of language. Then I draw back with a bloody head. And would like to go on.

There is a shortage of clerks. Everyone is going into journalism.

Artists have a right to be modest and a duty to be vain.