Living, just by itself - what a dirge that is! Life is a classroom and Boredom's the usher, there all the time to spy on you; whatever happens, you've got to look as if you were awfully busy all the time doing something that's terribly exciting - or he'll come along and nibble your brain.

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The poetry of heroism appeals irresistibly to those who don't go to a war, and even more to those whom the war is making enormously wealthy. It's always so.

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There's no tyrant like a brain.

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You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past. It's frightening how many people and things there are in a man's past that have stopped moving. The living people we've lost in the crypts of time sleep so soundly side by side with the dead that the same darkness envelops them all. As we grow older, we no longer know whom to awaken, the living or the dead.

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To hell with reality! I want to die in music, not in reason or in prose.

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I have never voted in my life... I have always known and understood that the idiots are in a majority so it's certain they will win.

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Our journey is entirely imaginary. That is its strength.

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The more one is hated, I find, the happier one is.

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The rich don't have to kill to eat. They employ people, as they call it. The rich don't do evil themselves. They pay. People do all they can to please them, and everybody's happy.

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The plain truth, I may as well admit it, is that I've never been really right in the head.

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