The world doesn't make any heroes anymore.
So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days.
For a good man fame is always a problem.
The economy of a novelist is a little like that of a careful housewife who is unwilling to throw away anything that might perhaps serve its turn.
Morality comes with the sad wisdom of age, when the sense of curiosity has withered.
The world was in her heart already, like the small spot of decay in a fruit.