The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death.

Wherever humanity has made that hardest of all starts and lifted itself out of mere brutality is a sacred spot.

So long as a novelist works selfishly for the pleasure of creating character and situation corresponding to his own illusions, ideals and intuitions, he will always produce something worth while and natural. Directly he takes himself too seriously and begins for the alleged benefit of humanity an elaborate dissection of complexes, he evolves a book that is more ridiculous and tiresome than the most conventional cold cream girl novel of yesterday.

It's all very well to tell us to forgive our enemies; our enemies can never hurt us very much. But oh, what about forgiving our friends?

Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky.

We all like people who do things, even if we only see their faces on cigar-box lids.

After all, the supreme virtue in all art is soul, perhaps it is the only thing which gives art a right to be.