Unless you are a Bernard Shaw you find a preface a most embarrassing business.

Women are like those blinkin' little Greek islands, places to call at but not to stay.

Memory, with its fugitive adjustments, is the merciful veil to the grim enactments of the first law. It hides the anguish in the human heart which is always craving for perpetuity.

The basic trouble is that people make statements without sufficient data.

If memory survived eternally, then indeed there might be justification for a belief in hell.

Tradition is a fine thing. Nothing comes out of the blue, except perhaps thunderbolts and they are not really very useful things.

It is always easier to be an epicure of a small repast than of a banquet.

One lives everything down in time.

Do the right thing every single day and you never have to worry about your job or your pay.

It doesn’t matter if she wanted it or not. No self-respecting man would offer something like that to a girl, especially one that’s drunk.

We take our vitamins, we go to exercise class, we put on our seat belts. And then something blindsides us and gives the lie to our carefully constructed facade of safety.

I'm going to save my public voice largely for the issues where I have some depth.

People like people who help them like themselves.

Poetry is paying attention to life when all the world seems asleep to its beauties and truths.

The development of a love of medium and a responsibility for one's own pictures is an overall goal.

The young knowledge worker whose job is too small to challenge and test his abilities either leaves or declines rapidly into premature middle age, soured, cynical, unproductive.

In death the many become one; in life the one become many.