I was seized by the stern hand of Compulsion, that dark, unreasonable Urge that impels women to clean house in the middle of the night.

Most of the faint intimations of immortality of which we are occasionally aware would seem to arise out of Art or the materials of Art.

Dogs are obsessed with being happy.

What would you do without me? Say 'nothing.'" "Nothing," said the Prince. "Good. Then you're helpless and I'll help you.

Last night I dreamed of a small consolation enjoyed only by the blind: Nobody knows the trouble I've not seen!

Reason is 6/7 of treason.

You might as well fall flat on your face as lean over too far backward.