The human mind has an infinite capacity for self-deception.
There is nothing so carking as the pangs of unsatisfied curiosity.
It is a pretty trick of authors to make nature ever in sympathy with man, but as a matter of fact she seldom is.
The final result of too much routine is death in life.
there is only one thing we do know and that is that we do not know anything.
The only real rival of love is Art, for that in itself is a deep personal passion, its function an act of creation, fed by some mysterious perversion of sex, and demanding all the imagination's activities.