What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thought; gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest, those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.

I find a fascination, like the fascination for the moth of a star, in those who hold aloof and disdain me.

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

Don't laugh at youth for his affectations; he is only trying on one face after another to find his own.

You cannot be both fashionable and first-rate

People before the public live an imagined life in the thought of others, and flourish or feel faint as their self outside themselves grows bright or dwindles in that mirror.

There are few sorrows in which a good income is of no avail.