Mr. James Joyce is a great man who is entirely without taste.

If ever peace is to be imposed on the world it will only be because a large number of men who could have taken part in the drill display by the Guards or Marines or at the Royal Tournament turn that strength and precision to the service of life.

History sometimes acts as madly as heredity, and her most unpredictable performances are often her most glorious.

Literature must be an analysis of experience and a synthesis of the findings into a unity.

To those who fall and hurt themselves one runs with comfort; by those who lie dangerously stricken by a disease one sits and waits.

We all drew on the comfort which is given out by the major works of Mozart, which is as real and material as the warmth given up by a glass of brandy.

Unhappy people are dangerous.