The English language is like a broad river on whose bank a few patient anglers are sitting, while, higher up, the stream is being polluted by a string of refuse-barges tipping out their muck.

The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication.

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

There are only three things which make life worth living: to be writing a tolerably good book, to be in a dinner party of six, and to be traveling south with someone whom your conscience permits you to love.

The artist is a member of the leisured classes who cannot pay for his leisure.

Imagination is nostalgia for the past, the absent it is the liquid solution in which art develops the snapshot of reality.

Purity engenders Wisdom, Passion avarice, and Ignorance folly, infatuation and darkness.