But why wasn't I born, alas, in an age of Adjectives; why can one no longer write of silver-shedding Tears and moon-tailed Peacocks, of eloquent Death, of the Negro and star-enameled Night?

When we say we are certain so-and-so can't possibly have done it, what we mean is that we think he very likely did.

What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for beauty, and never see the dawn!

The great art of writing is the art of making people real to themselves with words.

If you want to be thought a liar, always tell the truth

All reformers, however strict their social conscience, live in houses just as big as they can pay for.

For souls in growth, great quarrels are great emancipations.