I obey my own commands about as often as others do.

The Ordinary Life: the misery seems planned, the happiness accidental.

What lies behind appearance is usually another appearance.

Good manners can render even virtue tolerable.

My intentions go one way, my desires another. Thus I feel both self-indulgent and deprived.

Totem poles and wooden masks no longer suggest tribal villages but fashionable drawing rooms in New York and Paris.

Alone, lonely people talk to themselves. In company, they often continue.