English literature is a flying fish.
There are occasions when I would rather feel like a fly than a spider.
Liking one person is an extra reason for liking another.
It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
Let her go to Italy!" he cried. "Let her meddle with what she doesn't understand!
The final test for a novel will be our affection for it, as it is the test of our friends, and of anything else which we cannot define.