It is privilege of living to be acutely, agonizingly conscious of the moment that is always present and always passing.

You cannot throw words like heroism and sacrifice and nobility and honor away without abandoning the qualities they express.

A man at his desk in a room with a closed door is a man at work. A woman at a desk in any room is available.

In our society those who are in reality superior in intelligence can be accepted by their fellows only if they pretend they are not.

In an age where the lowered eyelid is just a sign of fatigue, the delicate game of love is pining away. Freud and flirtation are poor companions.

People on horses look better than they are. People in cars look worse than they are.

A musical audience is at best uninspiring, at worst definitely drab. ... Respectability hangs like a pall over the orchestra and the boxes; a sort of sterile sobriety ill-fitted to the passionate geometry of music.