People in hotels strike no roots. The French phrase for chronic hotel guests even says so; they are called dwellers sur la branche.

Readers of novels are a strange folk, upon whose probable or even possible tastes no wise book-maker would ever venture to bet.

Women who make men talk better than they are accustomed to are always popular.

One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams.

There can be no defence like elaborate courtesy.

The truth is the only thing worth having, and, in a civilized life, like ours, where so many risks are removed, facing it is almost the only courageous thing left to do.

What is literature compared with cooking? The one is shadow, the other is substance.