Everything great in the world comes from neurotics. They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces.

People who, not being in love themselves, feel that a clever man should only be unhappy about a person who is worth his while; which is rather like being astonished that anyone should condescend to die of cholera at the bidding of so insignificant a creature as the comma bacillus.

We think and name in one world, we live and feel in another.

But sometimes the future is latent in us without our knowing it, and our supposedly lying words foreshadow an imminent reality.

A fashionable milieu is one in which everybody's opinion is made up of the opinion of all the others. Has everybody a different opinion? Then it is a literary milieu.

A powerful idea communicates some of its strength to him who challenges it.

Even the simple act that we call "going to visit a person of our acquaintance" is in part an intellectual act. We fill the physical appearance of the person we see with all the notions we have about him, and in the totality of our impressions about him, these notions play the most important role.