Life is the art of being well deceived, and to succeed, it must be habitual and uninterrupted.

All art is quite useless.

And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand, The hand that held the steel: For only blood can wipe out blood, And only tears can heal

I am Irish by race but the English have condemned me to talk the language of Shakespeare.

If there is anything more annoying in the world than having people talk about you, it is certainly having no one talk about you.

It is only fair to state, with regard to modern journalists, that they always apologize to one in private for what they have written against one in public.

Find expression for a sorrow, and it will become dear to you. Find expression for a joy, and you will intensify its ecstasy.