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.

Children live in occupied territory. The brave and the foolhardy openly rebel against authority, whether harsh or benign. But most tread warily, outwardly accommodating themselves to alien mores and edicts while living in secret their iconoclastic and subversive lives.

Human kindness is like a defective tap, the first gush may be impressive but the stream soon dries up.

Metaphysical speculation is about as pointless as a discussion on the meaning of one's lungs. They're for breathing.

We English are good at forgiving our enemies; it releases us from the obligation of liking our friends.

The secret of contentment is never to allow yourself to want anything which reason tells you you haven't a chance of getting.

Of all the things that human beings did together, the sexual act was the one with the most various of reasons.