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

Money and sex are forces too unruly for our reason; they can only be controlled by taboos with which we tamper at our peril.

People have a right to be shocked; the mention of unmentionable things is a kind of participation in them.

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.

Self-respecting people do not care to peep at their reflections in unexpected mirrors, or to see themselves as others see them.

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

It is a matter of life and death for married people to interrupt each others stories; for it they did not, they would burst.