Anyone can tell the truth, but only very few of us can make epigrams.
Art is a manifestation of emotion, and emotion speaks a language that all may understand.
The writer is more concerned to know than to judge.
The morning drew on and the sun touched the mist so that it shone whitely like the ghost of snow on a dying star.
The faculty for myth is innate in the human race. It seizes with avidity upon any incidents, surprising or mysterious, in the career of those who have at all distinguished themselves from their fellow...
The experience of life shows that people are constantly doing things which must lead to disaster, and yet by some chance manage to evade the result of their folly.
Roy has always sincerely believed what everyone else believed at the moment.
Perhaps that is the wisdom of life, to tread in your father's steps, and look neither to the right nor to the left.
Perhaps his taciturnity hid a contempt for the human race which had abandoned the great dreams of his youth and now wallowed in sluggish ease; or perhaps these thirty years of revolution had taught hi...
Oh, it's always the same,' she sighed, 'if you want men to behave well to you, you must be beastly to them; if you treat them decently they make you suffer for it.
It's very hard to be a gentleman and a writer.
It is clear that men accept an immediate pain rather than an immediate pleasure, but only because they expect a greater pleasure in the future. Often the pleasure is illusory, but their error in calcu...
If there's anything I dislike it's the violin, she answered. Why one should want to hear anyone scrape the hairs of a horse's tail against the guts of a dead cat is something I shall never understand.
I never expected you to love me, I didn't see any reason that you should, I never thought myself very lovable.
I have always been a little disconcerted by the passion women have for behaving beautifully at the deathbed of those they love. Sometimes it seems as if they grudge the longevity which postpones their...
Human beings filled him with disgust.
He refused tea, but Mrs. Crowley poured out a cup and handed it to him. 'You need not drink it, but I insist on your hoding it in your hand. I hat people who habitually deny themselves things.
For myself I can say that, having had every good thing that money can buy, an experience like another, I could part without a pang with every possession I have. We live in uncertain times and our all...
As we grow older we become more conscious of the complexity, incoherence, and unreasonableness of human beings; this indeed is the only excuse that offers for the middle-aged or elderly writer, whose...
Her very kindness was cruel because it was founded not on love but on reason...