Men always want to be a woman's first love. That is their clumsy vanity. We women have a more subtle instinct about things.

Truth in art is the unity of a thing with itself: the outward rendered expressive of the inward: the soul made incarnate: the body instinct with spirit. For this reason there is no truth comparable to sorrow.

Sometimes it takes courage to give into temptation.

Women are never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That is the difference between the sexes.

Nobody of any real culture, for instance, ever talks nowadays about the beauty of sunset. Sunsets are quite old fashioned. To admire them is a distinct sign of provincialism of temperament. Upon the other hand they go on.

The secret of life is in art.

There is no man who is not, at each moment, what he has been and what he will be.