George had turned at the sound of her arrival. For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her. Before she could speak, almost before she could feel, a voice called 'Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!' The silence of life had been broken by Miss Bartlett, who stood brown against the view.

Reformers who are obsessed with purity and cannot see that their obsession is impure.

One of the evils of money is that it tempts us to look at it rather than at the things that it buys.

The only books that influence us are those for which we are ready, and which have gone a little farther down our particular path than we have yet got ourselves.

Characters must not brood too long. They must not waste time running up and down ladders in their own insides.

Long books, when read, are usually overpraised, because the reader wishes to convince others and himself that he has not wasted his time.

Beauty ought to look a little surprised: it is the emotion that best suits her face. The beauty who does not look surprised, who accepts her position as her due - she reminds us too much of a prima donna.