The writer - more especially the novelist - who has not, at one moment or another, considered his publisher unworthy of him, has still to be conceived.

She did not so much cook as assassinate food.

One of the uncovenanted benefits of living for a long time is that, having so many more dead than living friends, death can appear as a step backwards into the joyous past.

Is it really beyond our wits to devise some form of censorship which would trap only the crudely sadistic?

Speaking the truth, once you have started it, is too exhilarating to draw back.

Hope is a talent like any other.

In Europe, war is a disease which has been in the family for generations: no one is surprised when it makes another leap. Even the patient only attends to it with part of his mind.