The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?

I can sympathize with everything, except suffering.

Just to let you know that the buffet car will be closing for stocktaking in five minutes. The next station stop is Chesterfield.

If only the picture could grow old, and I stay young. For that...for that, I would give my SOUL for that.

The world has become sad because a puppet was once melancholy. The nihilist, that strange martyr who has no faith, who goes to the stake without enthusiasm, and dies for what he does not believe in, is a purely literary product. He was invented by Turgenev, and completed by Dostoevsky. Robespierre came out of the pages of Rousseau as surely as the People's Palace rose out debris of a novel. Literature always anticipates life. It does not copy it, but moulds it to its purpose.

The only thing worse than being misquoted is being sentenced to two years' hard labour for buggery

My experience is that as soon as people are old enough to know better, they don't know anything at all.