I feel sure that coups d'Ttat would go much better if there were seats, boxes, and stalls so that one could see what was happening and not miss anything.
The reason for the sadness of this modern age and the men who live in it is that it looks for the truth in everything and finds it.
Never speak of yourself to others; make them talk about themselves instead; therein lies the whole art of pleasing. Everybody knows it, and everyone forgets it.
One of the proud joys of the man of letters --if that man of letters is an artist is to feel within himself the power to immortalize at will anything he chooses to immortalize. Insignificant though he may be, he is conscious of possessing a creative divinity. God creates lives; the man of imagination creates fictional lives which may make a profound and as it were more living impression on the world's memory.
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
Any man who does not see everything in terms of self, that is to say who wants to be something in respect of other men, to do good to them or simply give them something to do, is unhappy, disconsolate, and accursed.
That which, perhaps, hears more nonsense than anything in the world, is a picture in a museum.
The facts: nothing matters but the facts: worship of the facts leads to everything, to happiness first of all and then to wealth.