I have patience in all things - as far as the antechamber.

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.

A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies.

Casting aspersions on those we love always does something to loosen our ties. We shouldn't maltreat our idols: the gilt comes off on our hands.

Women want you to deceive them: they force you to, and if you resist, they blame you.

Writing this book I am like a man playing the piano with lead balls attached to his knuckles.

COLD. Healthier than heat.