He is outside of everything, and alien everywhere. He is an aesthetic solitary. His beautiful, light imagination is the wing that on the autumn evening just brushes the dusky window.

A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with four horses over roads that one can’t see--that’s my idea of happiness.

In art economy is always beauty.

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.

We trust to novels to train us in the practice of great indignations and great generosity.

It might seem that an egg which has succeeded in being fresh has done all that can reasonably be expected of it.

She had always been fond of history, and here [in Rome] was history in the stones of the street and the atoms of the sunshine.