There is a level of fame where it is no longer necessary to be interesting, and a higher level where it is no longer possible.
We lie first about money, then about art; sex runs a distant third.
Beware of any discipline that creates its own subject matter.
Critics resent artists, but not half as much as artists resent critics.
Reading an author’s work for his life is like digging up a garden for manure.
A new law is passed. We do not read it; would not understand it if we read it; could not foresee its consequences if we understood it; yet hold an unalterable opinion of its merits.
Nothing is more exasperating than being lied to when both of you know and neither will admit it; yet this goes on all the time.
Our awareness of what we deserve, but lack, is surpassed only by our blindness to what we have, but do not deserve.
Diseases have fashions, but hypochondria is always in style.
As I interpret Genesis, the original sin is ennui.