Sooner or later, the great men turn out to be all alike. They never stop working. They never lose a minute. It is very depressing.

The mark of genius is an incessant activity of mind. Genius is a spiritual greed.

The wrongs of childhood and upbringing have made a large and obsessional contribution to autobiography and the novel.

Among the masked dandies of Edwardian comedy, Max Beerbohm is the most happily armored by a deep and almost innocent love of himself as a work of art.

Detective stories are the art-for-art's sake of yawning Philistinism.

Well, youth is the period of assumed personalities and disguises. It is the time of the sincerely insincere.

A short story is. . .frequently the celebration of character at bursting point.