I have always noticed that in portraits of really great writers the mouth is always firmly closed.
You are extraordinary within your limits, but your limits are extraordinary!
Generally speaking, everyone is more interesting doing nothing than doing anything.
In the morning there is meaning, in the evening there is feeling.
If the communication is perfect, the words have life, and that is all there is to good writing, putting down on the paper words which dance and weep and make love and fight and kiss and perform miracles.
It is the soothing thing about history that it does repeat itself.
Why should a sequence of words be anything but a pleasure?
Whoever said money can’t buy happiness didn’t know where to shop.
Every day is a renewal, every morning the daily miracle. This joy you feel is life.
Anything one does every day is important and imposing and anywhere one lives is interesting and beautiful.
When they are alone they want to be with others, and when they are with others they want to be alone. After all, human beings are like that.
A virgin a whole virgin is judged made and so between curves and outlines and real seasons and more out glasses and a perfectly unprecedented arrangement between old ladies and mild colds there is no satin wood shining.
I am I because my little dog knows me.
One does not get better but different and older and that is always a pleasure.
One must dare to be happy.
Honesty is a selfish virtue. Yes I am honest enough.
You look ridiculous if you dance. You look ridiculous if you don’t dance. So you might as well dance.
It takes a heap of loafing to write a book.
If you knew it all it would not be creation but dictation.
Considering how dangerous everything is, nothing is really very frightening.