All art is a struggle to be, in a particular sort of way, virtuous.

Art is the final cunning of the human soul which would rather do anything than face the gods.

The cry of equality pulls everyone down.

Happiness is a matter of one's most ordinary and everyday mode of consciousness being busy and lively and unconcerned with self.

Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.

We can only learn to love by loving.

We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.

In almost every marriage there is a selfish and an unselfish partner. A pattern is set up and soon becomes inflexible, of one person always making the demands and one person always giving way.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

Every man needs two women: a quiet home-maker, and a thrilling nymph.

Perhaps when distant people on other planets pick up some wavelength of ours all they hear is a continuous scream.