My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
A friend who loved perfection would be the perfect friend, did not that love shut his door on me.
Growing old is not a gradual decline, but a series of drops, full of sorrow, from one ledge to another below it.
Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage, and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.
When elderly invalids meet with fellow-victims of their own ailments, then at last real conversation begins, and life is delicious.
The great art of writing is the art of making people real to themselves with words.
What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thought; gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest, those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.
My religion centers in different areas than what's considered conventional religion.
Talent without discipline is like an octopus on roller skates
Write about what you're afraid of.
They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three.