One can't love humanity. One can only love people.

It is always of interest to know what strikes another human being as remarkable.

Pity is cruel. Pity destroys.

My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane.

That whisky priest, I wish we had never had him in the house.

Human nature is not black and white but black and grey.