There comes a time when every scientist, even God, has to write off an experiment.

Daniel supposed he had a secret life. Most people did; it was hardly possible to live without one.

Perhaps it's only when people are dead that we can safely show how much we cared about them. We know that it's too late then for them to do anything about it.

I don't see why escapist literature shouldn't also be a work of art.

Murder is the unique crime, the only one for which we can never make reparation to the victim.

What a child doesn't receive he can seldom later give.

I am fifty years old and I have never known what it is to love. I can write those words, know them to be true, but feel only the regret that a tone-deaf man must feel because he can't appreicate music, a regret less keen because it is for something never known, not for something lost.