It's harder to confess the sin that no one believes in Than the crime that everyone can appreciate. For the crime is in relation to the law And the sin is in relation to the sinner.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance.

Those who say they give the public what it wants begin by underestimating public taste and end by debauching it.

We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

This is the feeling for syllable and rhythm, penetrating far below the conscious levels of thought and feeling, invigorating every word.

He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience.