I would not creep along the coast but steerOut in mid-sea, by guidance of the stars.
I want that sort of thing — not ideas, you know, but a way of putting them.
I thought it was all over with me, and there was nothing to try for–only things to endure.
I thirsted for the unknown: the thirst is gone. O God, let me stay with the known, and be weary of it: I am content.
I think there are stores laid up in our human nature that our understandings can make no complete inventory of.
I think I dislike what I don't like more than I like what I like.
I suppose it was that in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and the smallest sample of virtue or accomplishment is taken to guarantee delightful stores which the broad le...
I should never like scolding any one else so well; and that is a point to be thought of in a husband.
I should like to make life beautiful--I mean everybody's life. And then all this immense expense of art, that seems somehow to lie outside life and make it no better for the world, pains one. It spoil...
I should be glad to see a good change in anybody, Mr. Godfrey.' she answered, with the slightest discernible difference of tone, 'but it 'ud be better if no change was wanted.
I shall be so glad if you will tell me what to read. I have been looking into all the books in the library at Offendene, but there is nothing readable. The leaves all stick together and smell musty. I...
I can't bear fishing. I think people look like fools sitting watching a line hour after hour--or else throwing and throwing, and catching nothing.
I beg your pardon: correct English is the slang of prigs who write history and essays. And the strongest slang of all is the slang of poets.
I am not quite sure whether clever men ever dance.
I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those lords of their kind, the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not st...
Her imagination was not easily acted on, but she could not help thinking that her case was a hard one, since it appeared that other people thought it hard.
He seemed to weave, like the spider, from pure impulse, without reflection. Every man's work, pursued steadily, tends in this way to become an end in itself, and so to bridge over the loveless chasms...
He once called her his basil plant, and when she asked for an explanation said that basil was a plant which had flourished wonderfully on a murdered man’s brains.
He distrusted her affection; and what loneliness is more lonely than distrust.
Few things hold the perception more thoroughly captive than anxiety about what we have got to say