I DON’T BELIEVE IN AGEING. I BELIEVE IN FOREVER ALTERING ONE’S ASPECT TO THE SUN.

The older one grows, the more one likes indecency.

The work of a queasy undergraduate scratching his pimples.

Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.

Incessant company is as bad as solitary confinement.

Without self-confidence we are as babes in the cradles. And how can we generate this imponderable quality, which is yet so invaluable most quickly? By thinking that other people are inferior to oneself.

I read the book of Job last night. I don’t think God comes well out of it.

As an experience, madness is terrific … and in its lava I still find most of the things I write about.

I have lost friends, some by death … others through sheer inability to cross the street.

The scratching of pimples on the body of the bootboy at Claridges.