Conformity is the last refuge of the unimaginitive

I usually say what I really think. A great mistake nowadays. It makes one so liable to be misunderstood.

The best work in literature is always done by those who do not depend on it for their daily bread and the highest form of literature, Poetry, brings no wealth to the singer.

To live in this world is a rare thing; most people just exist.

Jack? . . . No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations . . . I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest.

I may have said the same thing before... but my explanation, I am sure, will always be different.

One's dreams must be big enough so as not to lose sight of them.