There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another... It is when we begin to hurt those whom we love that the guilt with which we are born becomes intolerable, and since all those whom we love intensely and continuously grow part of us, and since we hate ourselves in them, so we torture ourselves and them together.

Like the bee its sting, the promiscuous leave behind them in each encounter something of themselves by which they are made to suffer.

The English masses are lovable: they are kind, decent, tolerant, practical and not stupid. The tragedy is that they are too many of them, and that they are aimless, having outgrown the servile functions for which they were encouraged to multiply. One day these huge crowds will have to seize power because there will be nothing else for them to do, and yet they neither demand power nor are ready to make use of it; they will learn only to be bored in a new way.

All charming people have something to conceal, usually their total dependence on the appreciation of others.

When young we are faithful to individuals, when older we grow loyal to situations and to types.

Green leaves on a dead tree is our epitaph-green leaves, dear reader, on a dead tree.

It is the fear of middle-age in the young, of old-age in the middle-aged, which is the prime cause of infidelity, that infallible rejuvenator.