Youth Is A Period Of Missed Opportunities.

In My Religion All Believers Would Stop Work At Sundown And Have A Drink Together.

We Fear Something Before We Hate.

There Is No More Sombre Enemy Of Good Art Than The Pram In The Hall.

The Only Happy Talkers Are Dandies Who Extract Pleasure From The Very Perishability Of Their Material And Who Would Not Be Able To Tolerate The Isolation Of All Other Forms Of Composition; For Most Good Talkers, When They Have Run Down, Are Miserable; They Know That They Have Betrayed Themselves, That They Have Taken Material Which Should Have A Life Of Its Own, To Dispense It In Noises Upon The Air.

It Is After Creation, In The Elation Of Success, Or The Gloom Of Failure, That Love Becomes Essential.