To me [Edgar Allan Poe's] prose is unreadable — like Jane Austin's [sic]. No there is a difference. I could read his prose on salary, but not Jane's. Jane is entirely impossible. It seems a great pity that they allowed her to die a natural death.

Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them the rest of us could not succeed.

Love is not a product of reasonings and statistics. It just comes-none knows whence-and cannot explain itself.