rudeness to Mrs. Dosely was like dropping a pat of butter on to a hot plate - it slid and melted away.

...there must be something she wanted; and that therefore she was no lady.

We are minor in everything but our passions.

Sacrificers ... are not the ones to pity. The ones to pity are those that they sacrifice. Oh, the sacrificers, they get it both ways. A person knows themselves that they're able to do without.

without fiction, either life would be insufficient or the winds from the north would blow too cold.

All your youth you want to have your greatness taken for granted; when you find it taken for granted, you are unnerved.

What I have found is, anything one keeps hidden should now and then be hidden somewhere else.