Words today are like the shells and rope of seaweed which a child brings home glistening from the beach and which in an hour have lost their luster.

Fallen leaves lying on the grass in the November sun bring more happiness than the daffodils.

Green leaves on a dead tree is our epitaph-green leaves, dear reader, on a dead tree.

There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.

We may assume that we keep people waiting symbolically because we do not wish to see them and that our anxiety is due not to being late, but to having to see them at all.

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.

No city should be too large for a man to walk out of in a morning.

The true index of a man's character is the health of his wife.

There are many who dare not kill themselves for fear of what the neighbours will say.

While thoughts exist, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.

All charming people have something to conceal, usually their total dependence on the appreciation of others.

If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being?

Like the body that is made up of different limbs and organs all mortal creatures exist depending upon one another.

When you're miserable, you don't want anyone around you to be happy.

I always find it fascinating to ask people, why they've chosen to live their life as an artist? Why be an actor, a singer, an author, a filmmaker? I've heard such inspiring answers to that question.

I would not trade America's position in the world - our ledger, our debts and assets - for any country in the world. There isn't a country in the world even close to America.

You can't join a team and give up on it because you lose a few games or things aren't going well.

I’m moving away from the business, from the company, from all this kind of stuff.

I didn't like the '60s because it was too important what people who had nothing to do with the war thought about it.

Live what you love, and love what you live. Anything less is a painful and frustrating waste of your precious time.

I cannot be awake for nothing looks to me as it did before, Or else I am awake for the first time, and all before has been a mean sleep.