I have pleasures, and passions, but the joy of life is gone. I am going under: the morgue yawns for me. I go and look at my zinc-bed there. After all, I had a wonderful life, which is, I fear, over.

What consoles one nowadays is not repentance but pleasure. Repentance is quite out of date.

Oh, I don’t care about Jack. I don’t care for anybody in the whole world but you. I love you, Cecily. You will marry me, won’t you? You silly boy! Of course. Why, we have been engaged for the last three months. For the last three months?

Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our gigantic intellects.

A man who does not think for himself does not think at all.

If art is to have a special train, the critic must keep some seats reserved on it.

A bore is someone who deprives you of solitude without providing you with company.