What was past was past. I suppose that was the general attitude.

The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it.

All the things that were read to me by my father were stories about things becoming all right.

The world is always in movement.

An autobiography can distort; facts can be realigned. But fiction never lies: it reveals the writer totally.

The melancholy thing about the world is that it is full of stupid people; and the world is run for the benefit of the stupid and common.

It isn't that there's no right and wrong here. There's no right.