The brain upon which my experiences have been written is not a particularly good one. If their were brain-shows, as there are cat and dog shows, I doubt if it would get even a third class prize.
Success is to be measured not by wealth, power, or fame, but by the ratio between what a man is and what he might be.
Since the passing of Victoria the Great there had been an accumulating uneasiness in the national life. It was as if some compact and dignified paper-weight had been lifted from people’s ideas, and as if at once they had begun to blow about anyhow.
If you do not want to explore an egoism you should not read autobiography.
I saw a gray-haired man a figure of hale age, sitting at a desk and writing.
Non-violence is the policy of the vegetable kingdom.
Hunger makes a fool of a man.
To be honest, one must be inconsistent.
Am I dreaming? Has the world gone mad – or have I?
The Jews looked for a special savior, a messiah, who was to redeem mankind by the agreeable process of restoring the fabulous glories of David and Solomon, and bringing the whole world at last under the firm but benevolent Jewish heel.
It is highly probable that the bulk of the Jew’s ancestors ‘never’ lived in Palestine ‘at all,’ which witnesses the power of historical assertion over fact.
Mankind which began in a cave and behind a windbreak will end in the disease-soaked ruins of a slum.
Religions are such stuff as dreams are made of.
I write to cover a frame of ideas.
Better it is toward the right conduct of life to consider what will be the end of a thing, than what is the beginning of it: for what promises fair at first may prove ill, and what seems at first a disadvantage, may prove very advantageous.
Marriage isn’t what it was. It’s become a different thing because women have become human beings.
A young mistress is better than an old master.
The army ages men sooner than the law and philosophy; it exposes them more freely to germs, which undermine and destroy, and it shelters them more completely from thought, which stimulates and preserves.
We’re in a blessed drainpipe, and we’ve got to crawl along it till we die.
An artist who theorizes about his work is no longer artist but critic.