I intend to judge things for myself; to judge wrongly, I think, is more honorable than not to judge at all.

When you forget to eat, you know you're alive.

Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.

Don’t underestimate the value of irony—it is extremely valuable.

If the artist is necessarily sensitive, does that sensitiveness form in its essence a state constantly liable to shade off into the morbid? Does this liability, moreover, increase in proportion as the effort is great and the ambition intense?

I have performed the necessary butchery. Here is the bleeding corpse.

My idea is this, that when you only love a little you're naturally not jealous — or are only jealous also a little, so that it doesn't matter. But when you love in a deeper and intenser way, then you're in the very same proportion jealous; your jealousy has intensity and, no doubt, ferocity.