This nice and subtle happiness of reading, this joy not chilled by age, this polite and unpunished vice, this selfish, serene life-long intoxication.

How often my soul visits the National Gallery, and how seldom

The truth is that the phenomena of artistic production are still so obscure, so baffling, we are still so far from an accurate scientific and psychological knowledge of their genesis or meaning, that we are forced to accept them as empirical facts; and empirical and non-explanatory names are the names that suit them best.

I am one of the unpraised, unrewarded millions without whom Statistics would be a bankrupt science. It is we who are born, who marry, who die, in constant ratios.

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

How it infuriates a bigot, when he is forced to drag out his dark convictions!

All mirrors are magical mirrors, and we never see our faces in them.