Man desires to be free and he desires to feel important. This places him in a dilemma, for the more he emancipates himself from necessity the less important he feels.

We all have these places where shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons.

A poet must never make a statement simply because it is sounds poetically exciting; he must also believe it to be true.

Oh, how I wish that Orwell were still alive, so that I could read his comments on contemporary events!

Literary confessors are contemptible, like beggars who exhibit their sores for money, but not so contemptible as the public that buys their books.

The center that I cannot find is known to my unconscious mind.

All that we are not stares back at what we are.