The trouble with young writers is that they are all in their sixties.
It is bad enough to know the past; it would be intolerable to know the future.
There's no one as transparent as the person who thinks he's devilish deep.
It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it.
You know, of course, that the Tasmanians, who never committed adultery, are now extinct.
The mystic sees the ineffable, and the psychopathologist the unspeakable.