“If I weren't a Jew (in the sense in which I use the word) then I wouldn't be an artist, or at least not the one I am now.”

The Foundations of Empirical Knowledge (1940). <!-- also quoted in Sense and Sensibilia (1962), edited by J. L. Austin, p. 85 Oxford University Press -->
Context: I am using the word "perceive". I am using it here in such a way that to say of an object that it is perceived does not entail saying that it exists in any sense at all. And this is a perfectly correct and familiar usage of the word. If there is thought to be a difficulty here, it is perhaps because there is also a correct and familiar usage of the word "perceive", in which to say of an object that it is perceived does carry the implication that it exists.

Facts are Facts (1954)

On an interview on The O'Reilly Factor (6 February 2016)
2010s, 2016, February

Captain Richard Sharpe, p. 136
Sharpe (Novel Series), Sharpe's Escape (2003)

Original: Je suis un grand artiste et je le sais. C'est parce que je le suis que j'ai tellement enduré de souffrances. Pour poursuivre ma voie, sinon je me considérerai comme un brigand. Ce que je suis du reste pour beaucoup de personnes. Enfin, qu'importe! Ce qui me chagrine le plus c'est moins la misère que les empêchements perpétuels à mon art que je ne puis faire comme je le sens et comme je pourais le faire sans la misère qui me lie les bras. Tu me dis que j'ai tort de rester éloigné du centre artistique. Non, j'ai raison, je sais depuis longtemps ce que je fais et pourquoi je le fais. Mon centre artistique est dans mon cerveau et pas ailleurs et je suis fort parce que je ne suis jamais dérouté par les autres et je fais ce qui est en moi.
Source: 1890s - 1910s, The Writings of a Savage (1996), pp. 53-54: Quote in a letter to his wife, Mette (Tahiti, March 1892)

Source: L’Expérience Intérieure (1943), p. 3

As quoted in Conversations With Allende (1970) by Regis Debray

Speech at Arlington Cemetery, Decoration Day (30 May 1868)
1860s
Context: I am oppressed with a sense of the impropriety of uttering words on this occasion. If silence is ever golden, it must be here, beside the graves of fifteen thousand men, whose lives were more significant than speech, and whose death was a poem, the music of which can never be sung. With words we make promises, plight faith, praise virtue. Promises may not be kept, plighted faith may be broken, and vaunted virtue be only the cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they spoke: but we do know they summed up and perfected, by one supreme act, the highest virtues of men and citizens. For love of country they accepted death, and thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their patriotism and their virtue.

Source: We Were Liars