All the evil in the world is the fault of the self-styled pure in heart, a result of their eagerness to unearth secrets and expose them to the light of the sun.

There are truths which can kill a nation.

A wife loves out of duty, and duty leads to constraint, and constraint kills desire.

The man who discovers a woman's weakness is like the huntsman in the heat of the day who finds a cool spring. He wallows in it.

There is nothing so wrong in this world that a sensible woman can't set it right in the course of an afternoon.

Each day the worst of our faults, our deficiencies, our crimes, the truth of our lives, is stifled under a triple layer of forgetfulness, death and the ordinary course of justice.

Who would prefer peace to the glory of hunger and thirst, of wading through mud, and dying in the service of one's country?