Latent in every man is a venom of amazing bitterness, a black resentment; something that curses and loathes life, a feeling of being trapped, of having trusted and been fooled, of being helpless prey to impotent rage, blind surrender, the victim of a savage, ruthless power that gives and takes away, enlists a man, drops him, promises and betrays, and -crowning injury- inflicts on him the humiliation of feeling sorry for himself.

Having precise ideas often leads to a man doing nothing.

In most cases, when the lion, weary of obeying its master, has torn and devoured him, its nerves are pacified and it looks round for another master before whom to grovel.

The only treaties that ought to count are those which would effect a settlement between ulterior motives.

One had to be a Newton to notice that the moon is falling, when everyone sees that it doesn't fall.

An artist never really finishes his work, he merely abandons it.

Poetry is to prose as dancing is to walking.