I believe journalism is coming to be regarded as quite a respectable occupation for gentlemen nowadays.

I am not fit to marry. I am often cross, and I like my own way, and I have a distaste for men.

Men are cowards before women until they become tyrants.

Nobody holds a good opinion of a man who has a low opinion of himself.

There is no human bliss equal to twelve hours of work with only six hours in which to do it.

I cannot hold with those who wish to put down the insignificant chatter of the world.

I do not think myself to be a worm, and a grub, grass of the field fit only to be burned, a clod, a morsel of putrid atoms that should be thrown to the dungheap, ready for the nethermost pit. Nor if I did should I therefore expect to sit with Angels and Archangels.