The lusts and greeds of the body scandalize the Soul; but it has to come to heel.

I might give my life for my friend, but he had better not ask me to do up a parcel.

All our lives we are putting pennies — our most golden pennies — into penny-in-the-slot machines that are almost always empty.

A slight touch of friendly malice and amusement towards those we love keeps our affections for them from turning flat.

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

To become young again would seem to me an appalling prospect. Youth is a kind of delirium, which can be cured, if it is ever cured at all, by years of painful treatment.

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