In painting, you can suddenly come upon something so huge that no-one can deal with it.

This surface good-nature which captivates a new acquaintance and is no bar to treachery, which knows no scruple and is never at fault for an excuse, which makes an outcry at the wound which it condones, is one of the most distinctive features of the journalist. This camaraderie (the word is a stroke of genius) corrodes the noblest minds; it eats into their pride like rust, kills the germ of great deeds, and lends a sanction to moral cowardice.

There is something great and terrible about suicide.

Love is the only passion which suffers neither past nor future.

The election of a deputy to the Legislature offers a noble and majestic spectacle comparable only to the delivery of a child. It involves the same efforts, the same impurities, the same laceration, and the same triumph.

Foppery, being the chronic condition of women, is not so much noticed as it is when it breaks out on the person of the male bird.

Virtue, perhaps, is nothing more than politeness of soul.