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

Charming people live up to the very edge of their charm, and behave as outrageously as the world will let them.

One's own vanities and humiliations I find a delicious subject for conversation. Things said of me behind my back I don't enjoy, and don't listen to them.

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

This nice and subtle happiness of reading, this joy not chilled by age, this polite and unpunished vice, this selfish, serene life-long intoxication.

I like to walk down Bond Street, thinking of all the things I don't desire.

When elderly invalids meet with fellow-victims of their own ailments, then at last real conversation begins, and life is delicious.