To the artist, expression is the only mode under which he can conceive life at all. To him what is dumb is dead.

Endless repetition, in and out of season, has spoiled for us the freshness, the naïveté, the simple romantic charm of the Gospels. We hear them read far too often and far too badly, and all repetition is anti-spiritual. When one returns to the Greek; it is like going into a garden of lilies out of some, narrow and dark house.

Un matrimonio dovrebbe basarsi sulla reciproca incomprensione.

Una donna che non sappia rendere affascinanti i propri errori non sarebbe altro che una femmina.

Come sono fortunati gli attori! Loro possono scegliere se recitare in una tragedia o in una commedia, se soffrire o gioire, ridere o piangere. Ma nella vita reale è diverso. Uomini e donne sono costretti per lo più a interpretare personaggi che non sono tagliati per loro. Ai nostri Guildenstern tocca il ruolo di Amleto, e i nostri Amleti devono fare i buffoni come il principe Hal. Il mondo è un palcoscenico, ma le parti sono mal distribuite.

I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know about.

For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and moon seem taken from us. Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey and niggard. It is always twilight in one’s cell, as it is always twilight in one’s heart. And in the sphere of thought, no less than in the sphere of time, motion is no more.