It is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is a proper judge of it

After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed and mourning over tragedies that were not my own.

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

The quivering, ardent sunlight showed him the lines of cruelty round the mouth as clearly as if he had been looking into a mirror after he had done some dreadful thing.

The mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-à-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value.

Sin is the only real colour element left in modern life.

The criminal classes are so close to us that even the policemen can see them.