There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'.

Oh, I am in love with life!

To sit and contemplate - to remember the faces of women without desire, to be pleased by the great deeds of men without envy, to be everything and everywhere in sympathy and yet content to remain where and what you are.

Thinking is my fighting.

That would be a glorious life, to addict oneself to perfection; to follow the curve of the sentence wherever it might lead, into deserts, under drifts of sand, regardless of lures, of seductions; to be poor always and unkempt; to be ridiculous in Piccadilly.

Why, he wondered, did people who had been asleep always want to make out that they were extremely wide-awake?

Nothing induces me to read a novel except when I have to make money by writing about it. I detest them.