Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

My sole wish is to frustrate as utterly as possible the post-mortem exploiter.

There are moods in which one feels the impulse to enter a tacit protest against too gross an appetite for pure aesthetics in this starving and sinning world. One turns half away, musingly, from certain beautiful useless things.

It is altogether an extraordinary growing, swarming, glittering, pushing, chattering, good-natured, cosmopolitan place, and perhaps in some ways the best imitation of Paris that can be found (with a great originality of its own).

He valued life and literature equally for the light they threw upon each other; to his mind one implied the other; he was unable to conceive of them apart.

She is written in a foreign tongue.

Money's a horrid thing to follow, but a charming thing to meet.