I wonder if we are all wrong about each other, if we are just composing unwritten novels about the people we meet?

It isn't only living people who die, it is great stretches of living, which can die even when the people who lived there still exist.

There is no such thing as conversation. It is an illusion. There are intersecting monologues, that is all.

To every man in the world there is one person of whom he knows little: whom he would never recognize if he met him walking down the street, whose motives are a mystery to him. That is himself.

A great many quite good plays could be performed with rhythmic howls in the place of dialogue and lose almost nothing by the change.

I am not so repelled by Communism: an element of Communism in politics is necessary and inevitable. In any involved society there must be a feeling that something must be done about poverty - which is the basis of communism.

A good cause has to be careful of the company it keeps.