A woman's desire for revenge outlasts all her other emotions.

Always be nice to those younger than you, because they are the ones who will be writing about you.

In a perfect union the man and woman are like a strung bow. Who is to say whether the string bends the bow, or the bow tightens the string?

The river of truth is always splitting up into arms that reunite. Islanded between them, the inhabitants argue for a lifetime as to which is the mainstream.

Dining out is a vice, a dissipation of spirit punished by remorse. We eat, drink, and talk a little too much, abuse all our friends, belch out our literary preferences and are egged on by accomplices in the audience to acts of mental exhibitionism. Such evenings cannot fail to diminish those who take part in them. They end on Monkey Hill.

There are many who dare not kill themselves for fear of what the neighbours will say.

Most of the beauty of women evaporates when they achieve domestic happiness at the price of their independence.