Some day some one will write a book about that frantic search of the creative worker for silence and freedom, not only from interruption but from the fear of interruption.

because we are always staring at the stars, we learn the shortness of our arms.

There is no place in the world, I imagine, for a philosopher with a sense of humor, a new leisure, and an inquiring turn of mind!

pretense is the oil that lubricates society.

There is something shameful about the death of a play. It does not die with pity, but contempt.

I have a great deal of mind. It takes a long time to change it.

I have always regarded divorce as essentially disagreeable, like castor oil, but necessary.