“We are bound together by the sympathy of our antipathies.”

He found in the world without as actual what was in his world within as possible.

Beware the horns of a bull, the heels of the horse, and the smile of an Englishman.

My puns are not trivial. They are quadrivial.

God made food; the devil the cooks.

Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.

A man’s errors are his portals of discovery.

There is no heresy or no philosophy which is so abhorrent to the church as a human being.

All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday.

I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality.

The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.

The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

White pudding and eggs and sausages and cups of tea! How simple and beautiful was life after all!

There’s no friends like the old friends.

There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present.

Jesus was a bachelor and never lived with a woman. Surely living with a woman is one of the most difficult things a man has to do, and he never did it.

Thought is the thought of thought.

Intuition is neither a feeling, an inspiration nor a disorderly sympathy but a fully developed method.

Laughter is, above all, a corrective. Being intended to humiliate, it must make a painful impression on the person against whom it is directed. By laughter, society avenges itself for the liberties taken with it. It would fail in its object if it bore the stamp of sympathy or kindness.

I have a knack of making villainous people a little bit sympathetic, a bit of fun on screen.

The drug dealers, they sympathize with me. They see me as some sort of pathetic character.

People say ‘Poor guy.’ That insults me. I despise sympathy. So I screwed up. I made some mistakes. ‘Poor guy,’ like I’m some victim. There’s nothing poor about me.

The world does not understand theology or dogma, but it understands love and sympathy.

Three-fourths of the people you will ever meet are hungering and thirsting for sympathy. Give it to them, and they will love you.

To be without sympathy is to be alone in the world–without friends or country, home or kindred.