There is no ordinary run of mankind, there are only individuals who are totally different. And whether a man is naked and black and stands on one foot in Sudan or is clothed in some kind of costume in a bus in England, they are still individuals of entirely different characters.

Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you.

How ungenerously in later life we disclaim the virtuous moods of our youth, living in retrospect long, summer days of unreflecting dissipation.

I think it's one of the kindest things you can do to the very wicked, to give them time to repent.

I never can understand how two men can write a book together; to me that's like three people getting together to have a baby.

Manners are especially the need of the plain. The pretty can get away with anything.

You can't ever tell what's going to hurt people.