No human being is innocent, but there is a class of innocent human actions called Games.

The true men of action in our time, those who transform the world, are not the politicians and statesmen, but the scientists

Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems.

In a land which is fully settled, most men must accept their local environment or try to change it by political means; only the exceptionally gifted or adventurous can leave to seek his fortune elsewhere. In America, on the other hand, to move on and make a fresh start somewhere else is still the normal reaction to dissatisfaction and failure.

Nobody knows what the cause is, though some pretend they do; it like some hidden assassin waiting to strike at you. Childless women get it, and men when they retire; it as if there had to be some outlet for their foiled creative fire.

One cannot walk through an assembly factory and not feel that one is in Hell.

If there are any souls in hell, it is because that is where they insist on being.