People say that life is the thing, but I prefer reading.

Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage, and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.

What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers.

Our names are labels, plainly printed on the bottled essence of our past behavior.

Style is a magic wand, and turns everything to gold that it touches.

Fine writers should split hairs together, and sit side by side, like friendly apes, to pick the fleas from each others fur.

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