I took Eugene Sue's Arthur from the reading-room. It's indescribable, enough to make you vomit. You have to read this to realize the pitifulness of money, success, and the public. Literature has become consumptive. It spits and slobbers, covers its blisters with salve and sticking-plaster, and has grown bald from too much hair-slicking. It would take Christ of art to cure this leper.

He loved the extensive vaults where you could hear the night birds and the sea breeze; he loved the craggy ruins bound together by ivy, those dark halls, and any appearance of death and destruction. Having fallen so far from so high a position, he loved anything that had also fallen from a great height

After the pain of this disappointment her heart once more stood empty, and the succession of identical days began again.

You can't find the soul with a scalpel.

The author, in his work, must be like God in the Universe, present everywhere and visible nowhere.

Our ignorance of history causes us to slander our own times.

How you measure the performance of your managers directly affects the way they act.