Muddled syntax is the outward and audible sign of confused minds, and the misuse of grammar the result of illogical thinking.

Fear and hatred do not seem to find expression in tears.

Another friend began to say, "Well, Quentin has a problem of adjusting himself to society and he..." This sentence was never finished. The ballet teacher expostulated, "I don't agree. Quentin does exactly as he pleases. The rest of us have to adapt ourselves to him."

You fall out of your mother's womb, you crawl across open country under fire, and drop into your grave.

Our clothes are too much a part of us for most of us ever to be entirely indifferent to their condition: it is as though the fabric were indeed a natural extension of the body, or even of the soul.

I have to work in England, but here in America you don't have to work. You can sort of enter the profession of being.

I have to realise that as I am only English and am allowed to live in America, I have to give something in return. And since I cannot build a hospital, or endow a university, I can only give my infinite availability.