Cynical realism is the intelligent man's best excuse for doing nothing in an intolerable situation.

Every man with a little leisure and enough money for railway tickets, every man, indeed, who knows how to read, has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant and interesting.

Man is an intelligence in servitude to his organs.

Every man's memory is his private literature.

Man approaches the unattainable truth through a succession of errors.

Every man who knows how to read has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant and interesting.