For me, the novel is experience illumined by imagination.

... beauty, like ecstasy, has always been hostile to the commonplace. And the commonplace, under its popular label of the normal,has been the supreme authority for Homo sapiens since the days when he was probably arboreal.

The world of the egotist is, inevitably, a narrow world, and the boundaries of self are limited to the close horizon of personality.... But, within this horizon, there is room for many attributes that are excellent.

So long as the serpent continues to crawl on the ground, the primary influence of woman will be indirect.

In her single person she managed to produce the effect of a majority.

Nothing, except the weather report or a general maxim of conduct, is so unsafe to rely upon as a theory of fiction.

The hardest thing for me is the sense of impermanence. All passes; nothing returns.