Art for art's sake makes no more sense than gin for gin's sake.

The future will one day be the present and will seem as unimportant as the present does now.

The important thing was to love rather than to be loved.

We have long passed the Victorian Era when asterisks were followed after a certain interval by a baby.

Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.

It has been said that good prose should resemble the conversation of a well-bred man.

Dying is the most hellishly boresome experience in the world! Particularly when it entails dying of 'natural causes'.