The ladies who try to keep their beauty are the ladies who lose it.

But why wasn't I born, alas, in an age of Adjectives; why can one no longer write of silver-shedding Tears and moon-tailed Peacocks, of eloquent Death, of the Negro and star-enameled Night?

What is more mortifying than to feel that you have missed the plum for want of courage to shake the tree?

Thank heavens, the sun has gone in and I don’t have to go out and enjoy it.

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

Uncultivated minds are not full of wild flowers, like uncultivated fields. Villainous weeds grow in them and they are the haunt of toads.

We need two kinds of acquaintances, one to complain to, while to the others we boast.