Real life seems to have no plots.

A plot is like the bones of a person, not interesting like expression, or signs of experience, but the support of the whole.

As regards plot I find real life no help at all. Real life seems to have no plots. And as I think a plot desirable and almost necessary, I have this extra grudge against life.

Real charity and real ability never to condemn-the one real virtue-is so often the result of a waking experience that gives a glimpse of what lies beneath things.

Magnifying a matter is not the way to mend it.

Dear, dear, the miniature world of the family! All the emotions of mankind seem to find a place in it.

Well, of course, people are only human... But it really does not seem much for them to be.