Human society is the embodiment of changeless laws which the whimsicalities and circumstances of men and women involve and overwrap. The realm of literature is the realm of these accidental manners and humours--a spacious realm; and the true literary artist concerns himself mainly with them.

There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present.

The light music of whiskey falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude.

Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.

All fiction is autobiographical fantasy.

What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?

Ineluctable modality of the visible; at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read.