The neurotic lies awake at night, composing letters to those he hates. He seldom thinks of dropping a line to those he loves.

The two main hazards of psychoanalysis: that it might fail, and that if it succeeds, you'll never be able to forgive yourself for all those wasted years.

When we discuss those we love with those who do not love them, the end of love is near.

Don't ask others to forgive in you a sin they're dying to commit themselves.

Everybody can write; writers can't do anything else.

Nostalgia for what we have lost is more bearable than nostalgia for what we have never had, for the first involves knowledge and pleasure, the second only ignorance and pain.

Few of us could bear to have ourselves for neighbors.