Here was food for reflection: Kitty had never heard the Chinese spoken of as anything but decadent, dirty, and unspeakable. It was as though the corner of a curtain were lifted for a moment, and she c...
He wondered whether he had done right. He was dissatisfied with himself and with all his circumstances. He asked himself dully whether whenever you got your way you wished afterwards that you hadn't
He lit his pipe again, smiling to himself quietly, with that painful smile of his, as though he were enjoying a joke that hurt him.
He knew that she had been dreaming that night and he knew what her dreams were about. She had forgotten them. He forebode to look at her. It gave him a grim, horrible, and rather uncanny sensation to...
Genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains. The
Genius is a word that is very loosely used nowadays. It is ascribed to persons to whom a more sober judgement would be satisfied to allow talent. Genius and talent are very different things. Many peop...
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...
Flaubert prided himself on his frankness; it was indeed brutal.
Even here is something sad and terrible. But the impression is fleeting, and serves only to give a greater acuteness to the enjoyment of the moment. It is like the sadness which you may see in the jes...
But beauty is not the only thing that makes a woman attractive; indeed, great beauty is often somewhat chilling: you admire, but are not moved.
Aloof on her mountain top she considered the innumerable activities of men. She had a wonderful sense of freedom from all earthly ties, and it was such an ecstasy that nothing in comparison with it ha...
Мъчително е да погледнеш една жена, която си обичал с цялото си сърце дотолкова, че си искал винаги да я гледаш, и изведнъж да разбереш, че ти е все едно, ако не я видиш повече. Трагедията на любовта...
A Unitarian very earnestly disbelieves what everyone else believes.
Beauty is an ecstacy it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it.
To me he seemed one of those persons destined to failure of whom you wonder what purpose it can ever serve that they should have ben born.
To write simply is as difficult as to be good.
There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.
You know what the critics are. If you tell the truth they only say you're cynical and it does an author no good to get a reputation for cynicism.
We are all greater than we know and that wisdom is the means to freedom.
[Thoreau] is a nimble skater who cuts elegant and complicated figures on a surface of frozen platitudes. Perhaps he would have been a better writer if he had not been quite so good a man.