Great grief does not of itself put an end to itsel...

Believe me, that was a happy age, before the days of architects, before the days of builders.

Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.

The deferring of anger is the best antidote to anger.

How incessant and great are the ills with which a prolonged old age is replete.

The great secret that all old people share is that you really haven't changed in seventy or eighty years. Your body changes, but you don't change at all. And that, of course, causes great confusion.

Every great architect is - necessarily - a great poet. He must be a great original interpreter of his time, his day, his age.

Once I planned to write a book of poems entirely about the things in my pocket. But I found it would be too long and the age of the great epics is past.

You are 27 or 28 right? It is very tough to live at that age. When nothing is sure. I have sympathy with you.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.

There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's sores the better.

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.