What would the daughters of the rich do with themselves if the poor ceased to exist?

Anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

The end of all stories, even if the writer forebears to mention it, is death, which is where time stops short. Sheherezade knew this, which is why she kept on spinning another story out of the bowels of the last one, never coming to a point where she could say: "This is the end." Because it would have been.

It's every woman's tragedy, that, after a certain age, she looks like a female impersonator. Mind you, we've known some lovely female impersonators, in our time.

To pin your hopes upon the future is to consign those hopes to a hypothesis, which is to say, a nothingness. Here and now is what we must contend with.

Some cities are women and must be loved; others are men and can only be admired or bargained with

Among the monsters, I am well hidden; who looks for a leaf in a forest?