The telephone, which interrupts the most serious conversations and cuts short the most weighty observations, has a romance of its own.

On the outskirts of every agony sits some observant fellow who points.

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

Theories then are dangerous things.

Marvelous are the innocent.

The older one grows, the more one likes indecency.

I'm fundamentally, I think, an outsider. I do my best work and feel most braced with my back to the wall. It's an odd feeling though, writing aginst the current: difficult entirely to disregard the current. Yet of course I shall.