No affectation of peculiarity can conceal a commonplace mind.

The mystic sees the ineffable, and the psychopathologist the unspeakable.

I can only guess that it made the world he went back to...strangely without meaning. Though he lived in it, though he even enjoyed it, it remained utterly remote. I think it had lost sense for him. In his heart was the reflection of a lovely dream that he could never quite recall.

What mean and cruel things men can do for the love of God.

Do you absolutely despise me, Walter?" "No." He hesitated and his voice was strange. "I despise myself.

I'll give you my opinion of the human race in a nutshell... their heart's in the right place, but their head is a thoroughly inefficient organ.

It's very hard to be a gentleman and a writer.