When a man goes through six years training to be a doctor he will never be the same. He knows too much.
The theatre is a gross art, built in sweeps and over-emphasis. Compromise is its second name.
If a dog doesn't put you first where are you both? In what relation? A dog needs God. It lives by your glances, your wishes. It even shares your humor. This happens about the fifth year. If it doesn't happen you are only keeping an animal.
As for death one gets used to it, even if it's only other people's death you get used to.
A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again.
It was March. The days of March creeping gustily on like something that man couldn't hinder and God wouldn't hurry.
And now, finished with that puzzling mixture of insane intimacy and isolation which is notoriety, Velvet was able to get on quietly to her next adventures.
If I had my life over again, I'd have thought more about words. And thought about them earlier.
The pleasure of one's effect on other people still exists in age - what's called making a hit. But the hit is much rarer and made of different stuff.
Judges don't age; time decorates them.
Sex- the great inequality, the great miscalculator, the great Irritator.
Pity is exhaustible. What a terrible discovery!
Why do birds sing in the morning? It's the triumphant shout: 'We got through another night!'
I shall continue to explore-the astonishment of living.
Before you fall asleep everyday, say something positive to yourself.
One never knows when one is old for certain.
From birth to death we are alone...
Isn't the fear of pain next brother to pain itself?
if death becomes cheap it is the watcher, not the dying, who is poisoned.
The dangerous thing about hate is that it seems so reasonable.
One's palate is reborn every morning!
Let this serve as an axiom to every lover: A woman who refuses lunch refuses everything.
An only child is never twelve.
There may be wonder in money, but, dear God, there is money in wonder.
The Press blew, the public stared, hands flew out like a million little fishes after bread.
I am not a born writer, but I was born a writer.
As for death, one gets used to it, even if it is only other people is death you get used to.
Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it's the answer to everything... It's the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it's a cactus.
Dead news like dead love has no phoenix in its ashes.
But I had been in love pretty often and I didn't think it stood the wear and tear.
After forty years of marriage we still stood with broken swords in our hands.
Marriage. The beginning and the end are wonderful. But the middle part is hell.
Things come suitable to the time.
One can lie, but truth is more interesting.
In marriage there are no manners to keep up, and beneath the wildest accusations no real criticism. Each is familiar with that ancient child in the other who may erupt again. We are not ridiculous to ourselves. We are ageless. That is the luxury of the wedding ring.
It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) --to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart.
You will be old- fashioned one day. It's more shocking than getting old.