Beauty makes idiots sad and wise men merry.

Criticism is the windows and chandeliers of art: it illuminates the enveloping darkness in which art might otherwise rest only vaguely discernible, and perhaps altogether unseen.

The sweetest memory is that which involves something which one should not have done; the bitterest, that which involves something which one should not have done, and which one did not do.

A man admires a woman not for what she says, but what she listens to.

The notion that as a man grows older his illusions leave him is not quite true. What is true is that his early illusions are supplanted by new, and to him, equally convincing illusions.

Great art is as irrational as great music. It is mad with its own loveliness.

Shaw writes plays for the ages, the ages between five and twelve.