I make it a rule always to believe compliments implicitly for five minutes, and to simmer gently for twenty more.

What sense of superiority it gives one to escape reading some book which every one else is reading.

Ah! Those strange people who have the courage to be unhappy! Are they unhappy, by the way?

It is so comic to hear oneself called old, even at ninety I suppose!

I make it a rule always to believe compliments implicitly for five minutes, and to simmer gently for twenty more.

Who would ever give up the reality of dreams for relative knowledge?

I think that if I get into the habit of writing a bit about what happens, or rather doesn't happen, I may lose a little of the sense of isolation and desolation which abides with me. My circumstances allowing of nothing but the ejaculation of one-syllabled reflections, a written monologue by that most interesting being, myself, may have its yet to be discovered consolations.