The artist isn't particularly keen on getting a thing done, as you call it. He gets his pleasure out of doing it, playing with it, fooling with it, if you like. The mere completion of it is an incident.

It is extraordinary how many emotional storms one may weather in safety if one is ballasted with ever so little gold.

One must choose between obscurity with efficiency, and fame with its inevitable collateral of bluff.

A young man must let his ideas grow, not be continually rooting them up to see how they are getting on.

There is nothing like a start, and being born, however pessimistic one may become in later years, is undeniably a start.

Responsibility's like a string we can only see the middle of. Both ends are out of sight.

Woman dwell always in the palace of unpalatable truth and never by any chance is there a magic talisman to save them from their destiny. Speech is their ultimate need. We men exist for them only in so far as we can be described.