Upon my word, I think the truth is the hardest missile one can be pelted with.

Under every guilty secret there is hidden a brood of guilty wishes, whose unwholesome infecting life is cherished by the darkness.

In Rome it seems as if there were so many things which are more wanted in the world than pictures.

It is always fatal to have music or poetry interrupted.

Self-consciousness of the manner is the expensive substitute for simplicity.

The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do things, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down.

So deeply inherent is it in this life of ours that men have to suffer for each other's sins, so inevitably diffusive is human suffering, that even justice makes its victims, and we can conceive no retribution that does not spread beyond its mark in pulsations of unmerited pain.