When I write a page that reads badly I know that it is myself who has written it. When it reads well it has come through from somewhere else.

Middle age snuffs out more talent than even wars or sudden death.

Everyone is a bore to someone. That is unimportant. The thing to avoid is being a bore to oneself.

Those who have money think that the most important thing in the world is love. The poor know it is money.

Wisdom is keeping a sense of fallibility of all our views and opinions.

We are closer to the ants than to the butterflies. Very few people can endure much leisure.

In a happy marriage it is the wife who provides the climate, the husband the landscape.

We confess our bad qualities to others out of fear of appearing naive or ridiculous by not being aware of them.

Old age takes away from us what we have inherited and gives us what we have earned.

The only test of work of literature is that it shall please other ages than its own.

Words are as recalcitrant as circus animals, and the unskilled trainer can crack his whip at them in vain.

I don't think it's possible to c-call yourself a C-Christian and... and j-just leave out the awkward bits.' -Wilfred Owen

A woman is the full circle. Within her is the power to create, nurture and transform.

Who set Rome on fire? The man we must admire. For killing his wife, and taking the life of mother and brother and so many others, while plucking his damnable lyre.

I like talking to you, ' he said, slowly.'Why?' That was the way to hear nice things. Ask why.

I feel helpless, hopeless, too low to call out, too weak to think. Impotent tears dribble down.

As a comic book artist, once you become a master, you end up a slave. In fine art you're always free... since I couldn't make it at Marvel, I made my life a carnival.

They are achieving nothing, they are suffering from casualties. Those casualties are increasing, not decreasing

As we go through life our relationship with our own mortality and our inevitable demise increases.

In all sorts of government man is made to believe himself free, and to be in chains.

Is there not a sort of remorse that precedes sin? Was it remorse at the very fact that I existed?