The suspense of a novel is not only in the reader, but in the novelist, who is intensely curious about what will happen to the hero.
We all live in suspense from day to day; in other words, you are the hero of your own story.
Liberty, as it is conceived by current opinion, has nothing inherent about it; it is a sort of gift or trust bestowed on the individual by the state pending good behavior.
The American character looks always as if it had just had a rather bad haircut, which gives it, in our eyes at any rate, a greater humanity than the European, which even among its beggars has an all too professional air.
Bureaucracy, the rule of no one, has become the modern form of despotism.
Every age has a keyhole to which its eye is pasted.
If someone tells you he is going to make a 'realistic decision', you immediately understand that he has resolved to do something bad.
Every word she writes is a lie, including and and the.
I am putting real plums into an imaginary cake.
In science, all facts, no matter how trivial or banal, enjoy democratic equality.
Life for the European is a career; for the American it is a hazard.
People with bad consciences always fear the judgment of children.
We are the hero of our own story.
Labor is work that leaves no trace behind it when it is finished, or if it does, as in the case of the tilled field, this product of human activity requires still more labor, incessant, tireless labor, to maintain its identity as a 'work' of man.
The labor of keeping house is labor in its most naked state, for labor is toil that never finishes, toil that has to be begun again the moment it is completed, toil that is destroyed and consumed by the life process.
When an American heiress wants to buy a man, she at once crosses the Atlantic. The only really materialistic people I have ever met have been Europeans.
Being abroad makes you conscious of the whole imitative side of human behavior. The ape in man.
Europe is the unfinished negative of which America is the proof.
In politics, it seems, retreat is honorable if dictated by military considerations and shameful if even suggested for ethical reasons.
In violence, we forget who we are.