People talk of beauty lightly, and having no feeling for words, they use that one carelessly, so that it loses its force; and the thing it stands for, sharing its name with a hundred trivial objects, is deprived of dignity. They call beautiful a dress, a dog, a sermon; and when they are face to face with Beauty cannot recognise it.

For my part I cannot believe in a God who is angry with me because I do not believe in him. I cannot believe in a God who is less tolerant than I. I cannot believe in a God who has neither humour nor common sense.

The artist produces for the liberation of his soul. It is his nature to create as it is the nature of water to run down the hill.

I [Death] was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.

It has amazed me that the most incongruous traits should exist in the same person and, for all that, yield a plausible harmony.

I am afraid of people with too much charm. They devour you. In the end you are made a sacrifice to the exercise of their fascinating gift and their insincerity.

The humorist has a good eye for the humbug; he does not always recognize the saint.