What pursuit is more elegant than that of collecting the ignominies of our nature and transfixing them for show, each on the bright pin of a polished phrase?

Money and sex are forces too unruly for our reason; they can only be controlled by taboos with which we tamper at our peril.

The vitality of a new movement in Art must be gauged by the fury it arouses.

An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.

A slight touch of friendly malice and amusement towards those we love keeps our affections for them from turning flat.

If they lost the incredible conviction that they can change their wives or husbands, marriage would collapse at once.

It is the dread of something happening, something unknown and dreadful, that makes us do anything to keep the flicker of talk from dying out.