Probably it is impossible for humor to be ever a revolutionary weapon. Candide can do little more than generate irony.

We live, understandably enough, with the sense of urgency; our clock, like Baudelaire's, has had the hands removed and bears the legend, "It is later than you think." But with us it is always a little too late for mind, yet never too late for honest stupidity; always a little too late for understanding, never too late for righteous, bewildered wrath; always too late for thought, never too late for naïve moralizing. We seem to like to condemn our finest but not our worst qualities by pitting them against the exigency of time.

Where misunderstanding serves others as an advantage, one is helpless to make oneself understood.

Unless we insist that politics is imagination and mind, we will learn that imagination and mind are politics, and of a kind we will not like.

It is possible that the contemplation of cruelty will not make us humane but cruel; that the reiteration of the badness of our spiritual condition will make us consent to it.

Literature is the human activity that make the fullest and most precise account of variousness, possibility, complexity, and difficulty.

What marks the artist is his power to shape the material of pain we all have.