... artists were intended to be an ornament to society. As a society in themselves they are unthinkable.

I can't see or feel the conflict between love and religion. To me, they're the same thing.

All good dialogue perhaps deals with something unprecedented.

Experience isn't interesting until it begins to repeat itself. In fact, till it does that, it hardly is experience.

She had one of those charming faces which, according to the angle from which you see them, look either melancholy or impertinent. Her eyes were grey; her trick of narrowing them made her seem to reflect, the greater part of the time, in the dusk of her second thoughts. With that mood, that touch of arriere pensee, went an uncertain, speaking set of lips.

The most steady, the most self-sufficient nature depends, more than it knows, on its few chosen stimuli.

On the subject of dress almost no one, for one or another reason, feels truly indifferent: if their own clothes do not concern them, somebody else's do.