With two thousand years of Christianity behind him... a man can't see a regiment of soldiers march past without going off the deep end. It starts off far too many ideas in his head.

A God who counts minutes and pennies, a desperate sensual God, who grunts like a pig. A pig with golden wings, who falls and falls, always belly side up, ready for caresses, that’s him, our master. Come, kiss me.

Life is filigree work. What is written clearly is not worth much, it's the transparency that counts.

Lots of men are like that, their artistic leanings never go beyond a weakness for shapely thighs.

The biggest defeat in every department of life is to forget, especially the things that have done you in, and to die without realizing how far people can go in the way of crumminess. When the grave lies open before us, let's not try to be witty, but record the worst of human viciousness we've seen without changing one word. When that's done, we can curl up our toes and sink into the pit. That's work enough for a lifetime.

In circumstances of real tragedy you see things straight away...past, present, and future together.

All that makes a lunatic are the very ordinary ideas of mankind shut up inside a man's head.