I have so often been asked the question: "But how did you come to think of The Scarlet Pimpernel?" And my answer has always been: "It was God's will that I should." And to you moderns, who perhaps do not believe as I do, I will say, "In the chain of my life, there were so many links, all of which tended towards bringing me to the fulfillment of my destiny."

Look at this limp cravet. And the sad state of those cuffs. I can hardly bring myself to look upon them.

To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us.

A woman's heart is such a complex problem - the owner thereof is often most incompetent to find the solution to this puzzle.

In the chain of my life, there were so many links, all of which tended towards bringing me to the fulfillment of my destiny.

...but in every century, and ever since England has been what it is, an Englishman has always felt somewhat ashamed of his own emotion and of his own sympathy.

Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed.