There are people whose society I find delicious; but when I sit alone and think of them I shudder.

People before the public live an imagined life in the thought of others, and flourish or feel faint as their self outside themselves grows bright or dwindles in that mirror.

Give me a bed and a book and I am happy.

Only those who get into scrapes with their eyes open can find the safe way out.

How can they say my life is not a success? Have I not for more than sixty years got enough to eat and escaped being eaten?

The test of enjoyment is the remembrance which it leaves behind.

Those who talk on the razor-edge of double-meanings pluck the rarest blooms from the precipice on either side.