You can't fight progress. The best you can do is ignore it, until it finally takes your livelihood and self-respect away.

Most writers are not quick-witted when they talk. Novelists, in particular, drag themselves around in society like gut-shot bears.

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

I have no culture, no humane harmony in my brains. I can't live without a culture anymore.

We are what we pretend to be.

Scum of the Earth as some may be in their daily lives, they can all be saints in emergencies.

Sometimes I think it is a great mistake to have matter that can think and feel. It complains so. By the same token, though, I suppose that boulders and mountains and moons could be accused of being a little too phlegmatic.