They cared for no one, they were outside humanity, and death, had it come, would only have continued their pursuit of a retreating horizon.

This solitude opressed her; she was accustomed to have her thoughts confirmed by others or, at all events, contradicted; it was too dreadful not to know whether she was thinking right or wrong.

I believe we shall come to care about people less and less, Helen. The more people one knows, the easier it becomes to replace them. It's one of the curses of London. I quite expect to end my life caring most for a place.

It's miles worse for you than that; I'm in love with your gamekeeper.

Reverence is fatal to literature.

The advance of regret can be so gradual that it is impossible to say "yesterday I was happy, today I am not.

For a wonderful physical tie binds the parents to the children; and - by some sad, strange irony - it does not bind us children to our parents. For if it did, if we could answer their love not with gratitude but with equal love, life would lose much of its pathos and much of its squalor, and we might be wonderfully happy.