Out of the unreal shadows of night comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off... p 207

The world has become sad because a puppet was once melancholy. The nihilist, that strange martyr who has no faith, who goes to the stake without enthusiasm, and dies for what he does not believe in, is a purely literary product. He was invented by Turgenev, and completed by Dostoevsky. Robespierre came out of the pages of Rousseau as surely as the People's Palace rose out debris of a novel. Literature always anticipates life. It does not copy it, but moulds it to its purpose.

There is only one real tragedy in a woman's life. The fact that her past is always her lover, and her future invariably her husband.

We call ours a utilitarian age, and we do not know the uses of any single thing. We have forgotten that water can cleanse, that fire can purify, and that the Earth is mother to us all.

The best way to appreciate your job is to, is here to stay.

It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you place the blame.

The only thing that can console one for being poor is extravagance.