I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours.

I don’t write this letter to put bitterness into your heart, but to pluck it out of mine. For my own sake I must forgive you.

I am tired of myself to-night. I should like to be somebody else.

Learned conversation is either the affectation of the ignorant or the profession of the mentally unemployed.

He would stab his best friend for the sake of writing an epigraph on his tombstone.

The nicest feeling in the world is to do a good deed anonymously-and have somebody find out.

So much had been surrendered! And to such little purpose! There had been mad wilful rejections, monstrous forms of self-torture and self-denial, whose origin was fear and whose result was a degradation infinitely more terrible than that fancied degradation from which, in their ignorance, they had sought to escape.