As to honor - you know - it's a very fine mediaeval inheritance which women never got hold of. It wasn't theirs.

We couldn't understand because we were too far... and could not remember because we were traveling in the night of first ages, those ages that had gone, leaving hardly a sign... and no memories.

A certain simplicity of thought is common to serene souls at both ends of the social scale.

The word 'ivory' rang in the air, was whispered, was sighed. You would think they were praying to it. A taint of imbecile rapacity blew through it all, like a whiff from some corpse. By Jove! I've never seen anything so unreal in my life. And outside, the silent wilderness surrounding this cleared speck on the earth struck me as something great and invincible, like evil or truth, waiting patiently for the passing away of this fantastic invasion.

Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.

The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.

I am afraid that if you want to go down into history you'll have to do something for it.