It takes character to withstand the rigours of indolence.
The unpredictable and the predetermined unfold together to make everything the way it is.
We’re better at predicting events at the edge of the galaxy or inside the nucleus of an atom than whether it’ll rain on auntie’s garden party three Sundays from now.
The universe is deterministic all right, just like Newton said, I mean it’s trying to be, but the only thing going wrong is people fancying people who aren’t supposed to be in that part of the plan.
For all the compasses in the world, there’s only one direction, and time is its only measure.
The hard part is getting to the top of page 1.
There’s something scary about stupidity made coherent.
A genuine love of learning is one of the two delinquencies which cause blindness and lead a young man to ruin.
Personally I am in favour of education but a university is not the place for it.
There is truth and falsehood in a comma.
I read for interest and enjoyment, and when I cease to enjoy it I stop.
Between “just desserts” and “tragic irony” we are given quite a lot of scope for our particular talent. Generally speaking, things have gone about as far as they can possibly go when things have got about as bad as they reasonably get.
I can put two and two together, you know. Do not think you are dealing with a man who has lost his grapes.
In January 1962, when I was the author of one and a half unperformed plays, I attended a student production of ‘The Birthday Party’ at the Victoria Rooms in Bristol. Just before it began, I realised that Harold Pinter was sitting in front of me.
I doubt that art needed Ruskin any more than a moving train needs one of its passengers to shove it.
It takes a lot of effort to be vibrant.
The truth is always a compound of two half- truths, and you never reach it, because there is always something more to say.
Underneath runs the main current of preoccupation, which is keeping one’s nose clean at all times. This means that when things go wrong you have to pass the blame along the line, like pass-the-parcel, till the music stops.
Since we cannot hope for order, let us withdraw with style from the chaos.
We’ve traveled too far, and our momentum has taken over; we move idly towards eternity, without possibility of reprieve or hope of explanation.