There is more felicity on the far side of baldness than young men can possibly imagine.

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

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

How awful to reflect that what people say of us is true!

I can't forgive my friends for dying; I don't find these vanishing acts of theirs at all amusing.

What pursuit is more elegant than that of collecting the ignominies of our nature and transfixing them for show, each on the bright pin of a polished phrase?

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