Women do have an affinity for evil, for believing that no woman is to be trusted, but that some men are too innocent to protect themselves.
Women are like that they don’t acquire knowledge of people we are for that they are just born with a practical fertility of suspicion that makes a crop every so often and usually right they have an affinity for evil for supplying whatever the evil lacks in itself for drawing it about them instinctively as you do bed-clothing in slumber fertilising the mind for it until the evil has served its purpose whether it ever existed or no.
When you have plenty of good strong hating you don’t need hope because the hating will be enough to nourish you.
What makes a fool is an inability to take even his own good advice.
Victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.
To the man grown the long crowded mile of his boyhood becomes less than the throw of a stone.
They say that it is the practiced liar who can deceive. But so often the practiced and chronic liar deceives only himself; it is the man who all his life has been selfconvicted of veracity whose lies find quickest credence.
There is that might-have-been which is the single rock we cling to above the maelstrom of unbearable reality.
There is no such thing as memory: the brain recalls just what the muscles grope for: no more, no less: and its resultant sum is usually incorrect and false and worthy only of the name of dream.
There are some things that just have to be whether they are or not, have to be a damn sight more than some other things that are and it don’t matter a damn whether they are or not.
There are some things for which three words are three too many, and three thousand words that many words too less.
The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true.