There Was Still Gold And Silver In

A Writer Is A Maker, Not A Man Of Action: His Private Life Is Of No Concern To Anybody But Himself, His Family And His Friends.

If There Are Any Souls In Hell, It Is Because That Is Where They Insist On Being.

Without Art, We Should Have No Notion Of The Sacred; Without Science, We Should Always Worship False Gods.

To Read Is To Translate, For No Two Persons' Experiences Are The Same. A Bad Reader Is Like A Bad Translator: He Interprets Literally When He Ought To Paraphrase And Paraphrases When He Ought To Interpret Literally.

Though One Cannot Always Remember Exactly Why One Has Been Happy, There Is No Forgetting That One Was.