The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
I am afraid of people with too much charm. They devour you. In the end you are made a sacrifice to the… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
On the earth, satellite of a star speeding through space, living things had arisen under the influence of conditions which were part… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
Culture is not just an ornament; it is the expression of a nation's character, and at the same time it is a… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
The great man is too often all of a piece; it is the little man that is a bundle of contradictory elements.… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
He is not famous. It may be that he never will be. It may be that when his life at last comes… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
“A man thinks it quite natural that he should fall out of love with a woman, but it never strikes him for a moment… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
“A man's work reveals him. In social intercourse he gives you the surface that he wishes the world to accept, but in his book… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
Love is only a dirty trick played on us to achieve continuation of the species. — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
The world is hard and cruel. We are here none knows why, and we go none knows whither. We must be very humble. We… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
“There is no more merit in having read a thousand books than in having ploughed a thousand fields.” — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
“I wanted to live again and again. I was willing to accept every sort of life, no matter what its pain and sorrow; I… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
In Hollywood, the women are all peaches. It makes one long for an apple occasionally. — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
Follow your inclinations with due regard to the policeman round the corner. — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
“His love became a prison from which he longed to escape, but he had not the strength merely to open the door-that was all… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
I did not believe him capable of love. That is an emotion in which tenderness is an essential part, but Strickland had no tenderness… — W. Somerset Maugham Copy Share Image
