Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Trapped dreams must die.
No lady is ever a gentleman.
Patriotism is the religion of hell.
I am willing to taste any drink once.
There is no gift more great than love.
Man alone of animals plays the ape to his dreams .
At all events, I do not mean to leave it unaltered.
Poetry is man's rebellion against being what he is.
Whatever there is to know, That shall we know one day.
The touch of time does more than the club of Hercules.
Thou shalt not offend against the notions of thy neighbor.
In religious matters a traveller loses nothing by civility.
A manpossessesnothing certainlysavea brief loanof his own body.
Why is the King of Hearts the only one that hasn't a moustache?
People never want to be told anything they do not believe already.
What am I that I am called upon to have prejudices concerning the universe?
I ask of literature precisely those things of which I feel the lack in my own life.
Life is very marvelous... and to the wonders of the earth there is no end appointed.
Good and evil keep very exact accounts... and the face of every man is their ledger.
The only way of rendering life endurable is to drink as much wine as one can come by.
Literature is a vast bazaar where customers come to purchase everything except mirrors.
In what else, pray, does man differ from the other animals except in that he is used by words?
There is not any memory with less satisfaction than the memory of some temptation we resisted.
Love, I take it, must look toward something not quite accessible, something not quite understood.
Whatever pretended pessimists in search of notoriety may say, most people are naturally kind, at heart.
The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds, and the pessimist fears this is true.
Every notion that any man, dead, living, or unborn, might form as to the universe will necessarily prove wrong
No person of quality ever remembers social restrictions save when considering how most piquantly to break them.
The desire to write perfectly of beautiful happenings is, as the saying runs, old as the hills — and as immortal.
I have followed after the truth, across this windy planet upon which every person is nourished by one or another lie.
People marry for a variety of reasons and with varying results. But to marry for love is to invite inevitable tragedy.
People marry through a variety of other reasons, and with varying results: but to marry for love is to invite inevitable tragedy.
But with man the case is otherwise, in that when logic leads to any humiliating conclusion, the sole effect is to discredit logic.
People must have both their dreams and their dinners in this world, and when we go out of it we must take what we find. That is all.
There is no escaping, at times, the gloomy suspicion that fiddling with pens and ink is, after all, no fit employment for a grown man.
Time changes all things and cultivates even in herself an appreciation of irony, and, therefore, why shouldn't I have changed a trifle?
As it is, plain reasoning assures me I am not indispensable to the universe: but with this reasoning, somehow, does not travel my belief.
While it is well enough to leave footprints on the sands of time, it is even more important to make sure they point in a commendable direction.
Oh, do the Overlords of Life and Death always provide some obstacle to prevent what all of us have known in youth was possible from ever coming true?
The realization that life is absurdand cannot be an end, but only abeginning. This is a truth nearly allgreat minds have taken as their starting point.
Some few there must be in every age and every land of whom life claims nothing very insistently save that they write perfectly of beautiful happenings.
Creeds matter very little... The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true. So I elect for neither label.
I take it that I must be the eternal playfellow of time. For piety and common-sense and death are rightfully time's toys; and it is with these three that I divert myself.
The man was not merely very human; he was humanity. And I reflected that it is only by preserving faith in human dreams that we may, after all, perhaps some day make them come true.
I do that which I do in every place. Here also, at the gateway of that garden into which time has not entered, I fight with time my ever-losing battle, because to do that diverts me.
There are many of our so-called captains on industry who, if the truth were told, and a shorter and uglier word were not unpermissible, are little better than malefactors of great wealth.
Yet creeds mean very little, Coth answered the dark god, still speaking almost gently. The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true.
Men have begun to observe and classify, they turn from creation to Criticism... It is the Fashion to be a wit... one must be able to conceal indecency with elegant diction; manners are everything, morals nothing.
For all men have but a little while to live and none knows his fate thereafter. So that a man possesses nothing certainly save a brief loan of his body: and yet the body of man is capable of much curious pleasure.
I was born, I think, with the desire to make beautiful books — brave books that would preserve the glories of the Dream untarnished, and would re-create them for battered people, and re-awaken joy and magnanimity.