Happiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular.

If a man wants to be of the greatest possible value to his fellow-creatures, let him begin the long, solitary process of perfecting himself.

Every man is wise when attacked by a mad dog; fewer when pursued by a mad woman; only the wisest survive when attacked by a mad notion.

There is no nonsense so gross that society will not, at some time, make a doctrine of it and defend it with every weapon of communal stupidity.

It is lost, lovely child, somewhere in the ragbag that I laughingly refer to as my memory.

If you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.

Every man makes his own summer. The season has no character of its own, unless one is a farmer with a professional concern for the weather.

No people in the world can make you feel so small as the English.

To ask an author who hopes to be a serious writer if his work is autobiographical is like asking a spider where he buys his thread.

Love affairs are for emotional sprinters; the pleasures of love are for the emotional marathoners.

One learns one’s mystery at the price of one’s innocence.

Imagination is a good horse to carry you over the ground—not a flying carpet to set you free from probability.

Art is wine and experience is the brandy we distill from it.

If you don’t hurry up and let life know what you want, life will damned soon show you what you’ll get.

As I once said of George Bernard Shaw, he bloomed at twenty, but nobody smelled him till he was forty.

Ah that blessed degree that stamps us for life as creatures of guaranteed intellectual worth.

Inactivity and deprivation of all accustomed stimulus is not rest; it is a preparation for the tomb.

If we seek the pleasures of love, passion should be occasional, and common sense continual.

Fanaticism is overcompensation for doubt.