The birds that were singing in the dew-drenched garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her.

With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?

Musical people always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be perfectly deaf.

My writing has gone to bits - like my character. I am simply a self-conscious nerve in pain.

London is full of women who trust their husbands. One can always recognize them. They look so thoroughly unhappy.

I could never quite accustom myself to absinthe, but it suits my style so well

We spend our days, each one of us, in looking for the secret of life. Well, the secret of life is in Art.