Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?

Anybody can have common sense, provided that they have no imagination.

I have never met any really wicked person before. I feel rather frightened. I am so afraid he will look just like every one else.

There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.

The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

People sometimes inquire what form of government is most suitable for an artist to live under. To this question there is only one answer. The form of government that is most suitable to the artist is no government at all.

The things one feels absolutely certain about are never true. That is the fatality of faith, and the lesson of romance.