Memory is the diary that chronicles things that never have happened and couldn't possibly have happened.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face.

We call ours a utilitarian age, and we do not know the uses of any single thing. We have forgotten that water can cleanse, that fire can purify, and that the Earth is mother to us all.

Its a beautiful woman's fate to be the subject of conversation where ever she goes

I was very much disappointed in the Atlantic Ocean.

For the canons of good society are, or should be, the same as the canons of art. Form is absolutely essential to it.

Fathers should be neither seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family life.