She was "a woman of uncertain age.

There is no doubt that a person's charms are less frequently a cause of love than a remark such as: 'No, this evening I shan't be free'.

We feel in one world, we think and name in another. Between the two we can set up a system of references, but we cannot fill in the gap.

Friendship is in the end no more than: " . . . a lie which seeks to make us believe that we are not irremediably alone."

Now are the woods all black, But still the sky is blue.

It is the tragedy of other people that they are to us merely showcases for the very perishable collections of our own mind.

No man is a complete mystery except to himself.