The public for which masterpieces are intended is not of this earth.

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?

Now he discovered that secret from which one never quite recovers, that even in the most perfect love one person loves less profoundly than the other. There may be two equally good, equally gifted, equally beautiful, but theremay never be two that love one another equally well.

How terrifying and glorious the role of man if, indeed, without guidance and without consolation he must create from his own vitals the meaning for his existence and write the rules whereby he lives.

There is no drunkenness equal to that of remembering whispered words in the night.

An incinerator is a writer's best friend.

Every good thing in the world stands on the razor-edge of danger.