Convention was our safeguard: could one have stronger?

Every love has a poetic relevance of its own; each love brings to light only what to it is relevant. Outside lies the junk-yard of what does not matter.

Story involves action. Action towards an end not to be foreseen (by the reader) but also towards an end which, having been reached, must be seen to have been from the start inevitable.

Never to lie is to have no lock on your door, you are never wholly alone.

Illusions are art, for the feeling person, and it is by art that we live, if we do.

There is no doubt that sorrow brings one down in the world. The aristocratic privilege of silence belongs, you soon find out, to only the happy state- or, at least, to the state when pain keeps within bounds.

Habit, of which passion must be wary, may all the same be the sweetest part of love.