My nervous system is a shattered wreck, and I am absolutely bored and listless save when I come upon something which peculiarly interests me.
Toil without song is like a weary journey without an end.
I am well-nigh resolv'd to write no more tales but merely to dream when I have a mind to, not stopping to do anything so vulgar as to set down the dream for a boarish Publick.
Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.
I do not think that any realism is beautiful.
All of my tales are based on the fundamental premise that common human laws and emotions have no validity or significance in the cosmos-at-large.