And yet, the only exciting life is the imaginary one.

One likes people much better when they're battered down by a prodigious siege of misfortune than when they triumph.

If we didn't live venturously, plucking the wild goat by the beard, and trembling over precipices, we should never be depressed, I've no doubt; but already should be faded, fatalistic and aged.

You can't think how I depend on you, and when you're not there the colour goes out of my life.

There is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us, and not we, them.

How are we to account for the strange human craving for the pleasure of feeling afraid which is so much involved in our love of ghost stories?

Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I must push my foot stealthily lest I should fall off the edge of the world into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body.