In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.

Sexuality is the lyricism of the masses.

I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on, The windows and the stars illumined, one by one, The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily, And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see The springs, the summers, and the autumns slowly pass; And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass, I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight, And build me stately palaces by candlelight.

In putting off what one has to do, one runs the risk of never being able to do it.

As a remedy against all ills - poverty, sickness, and melancholy - only one thing is absolutely necessary: a liking for work

If rape or arson, poison or the knife Has wove no pleasing patterns in the stuff Of this drab canvas we accept as life - It is because we are not bold enough!

Even if it were proven that God didn't exist, Religion would still be Saintly and Divine.