Unhappy people are dangerous.

I have no faith in the sense of comforting beliefs which persuade me that all my troubles are blessings in disguise.

There is, of course, no reason for the existence of the male sex except that one sometimes needs help with moving the piano.

The earth itself is slightly resistant to routine.

Here lies the real terror in the international war of ideologies; that a city knows not whom it entertains.

Sex, which ought to be an incident of life, is the obsession of the well-fed world.

works of art feel towards human beings exactly as we do towards ghosts. The transparency of spectres, the diffuseness in space which lets them drift through doors and walls, and their smell of death, disgust us not more than we disgust works of art by our meaninglessness, our diffuseness in time which lets us drift through three score years and ten without a quarter as much significance as a picture establishes instantaneously.