Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us.

With subtle and finely-wrought temperaments it is always so. Their strong passions must either bruise or bend. They either slay the man, or themselves die. Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and the sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude.

Women treat us [men] like humanity treats gods – they worship us and keep bothering us to do something.

Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery.

The Americans are certainly hero-worshipers, and always take their heroes from the criminal classes.

After a good quality dinner one will be able to forgive anybody, still one's own relations.

The gods bestowed on Max [Beerbohm] the gift of perpetual old age.