Sometimes I think too much fuss is made about marriage. Century after century of carnal embracement and we're still no nearer to understanding one another.

It is so difficult - at least, I find it difficult - to understand people who speak the truth.

It is the vice of a vulgar mind to be thrilled by bigness.

Love felt and returned, love which our bodies exact and our hearts have transfigured, love which is the most real thing that we shall ever meet, reappeared now as the world's enemy, and she must stifle it.

I think you’re beautiful, the only beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you.

Growing old is an emotion which comes over us at almost any age; I had it myself between the ages of 25 and 30.

I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.