Ideas are fatal to caste.
For you cannot have gentility without paying for it.
But after all, what have we to do with taverns? Real menace belongs to the drawing-room.
How few writers can prostitute all their powers!
We are all like Scheherazade's husband, in that we want to know what happens next.
I seem fated to pass through the world without colliding with it or moving it — and I'm sure I can't tell you whether the fate's good or evil. I don't die — I don't fall in love. And if other people die or fall in love they always do it when I'm just not there.