One cares so little for the style in which one's praises are written.

Little as she was addicted to solitude, there had come to be moments when it seemed a welcome escape from the empty noises of her life.

He had her in his arms, her face like a wet flower at his lips, and all their vain terrors shriveling up like ghosts at sunrise.

...and wondering where he had read that clever liars give details, but that the cleverest do not.

I despair of the Republic! Such dreariness, such whining sallow women, such utter absence of the amenities, such crass food, crass manners, crass landscape!! What a horror it is for a whole nation to be developing without the sense of beauty, and eating bananas for breakfast.

We shall hurt others less. Isn't it, after all, what you always wanted?

In all the arts abundance seems to be one of the surest signs of vocation.