The parlour cars and Pullmans are packed also with scented assassins, salad-eaters who murder on milk.

All I have is a voice.

Who on earth invented the silly convention that it is boring or impolite to talk shop? Nothing is more interesting to listen to, especially if the shop is not one's own.

See without looking, hear without listening, breathe without asking.

Genealogies are admirable things, provided they do not encourage the curious delusion that some families are older than others.

There is a great deal of difference in believing something still, and believing it again.

There is a certain kind of person who is so dominated by the desire to be loved for himself alone that he has constantly to test those around him by tiresome behavior; what he says and does must be admired, not because it is intrinsically admirable, but because it is his remark, his act. Does not this explain a good deal of avant-garde art?