I distrust Great Men... I believe in aristocracy, though... Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet... They are sensitive for others as well as for themselves, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness but the power to endure, and they can take a joke.

They had nothing in common but the English language.

Outside the arch, always there seemed another arch. And beyond the remotest echo, a silence.

Lucy was suffering from the most grievous wrong which this world has yet discovered: diplomatic advantage had been taken of her sincerity, of her craving for sympathy and love. Such a wrong is not easily forgotten. Never again did she expose herself without due consideration and precaution against rebuff. And such a wrong may react disastrously upon the soul.

If God could tell the story of the Universe, the Universe would become fictitious.

Don't believe those lies about intellectual people. They're only written to soothe the majority.

We may divide characters into flat and round.