The facts of another's life do not illumine. Only when we know the heart can we know that life. Only the feeling that made the days can light them.

In writing ... remember that the biggest stories are not written about wars, or about politics, or even murders. The biggest stories are written about the things which draw human beings closer together.

It is through suppression that hells are formed in us.

Seems nothing draws men together like killing other men.

But mayn't desertion be a brave thing? A fine thing? To desert a thing we've gone beyond - to have the courage to desert it and walk right off from the dead thing to the live thing - ?

Defeat furnishes good material to the poets and the artists, but none of us care to have the glory of the conquered apply to us.

I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit.