I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.

The very essence of romance is uncertainty.

Fashion rests upon folly. Art rests upon law. Fashion is ephemeral. Art is eternal. Indeed what is a fashion really? A fashion is merely a form of ugliness so absolutely unbearable that we have to alter it every six months! It is quite clear that were it beautiful and rational we would not alter anything that combined those two rare qualities. And wherever dress has been so, it has remained unchanged in law and principle for many hundred years.

The English public always feels perfectly at ease when a mediocrity is talking to it.

Alone, and without any reference to his neighbours, without any interference, the artist can fashion a beautiful thing; and if he does not do it solely for his own pleasure, he is not an artist at all.

She knew nothing, but she had everything that he had lost.

It is very vulgar to talk about one's own business. Only people like stockbrokers do that, and then only at dinner parties.