Any place you love is the world to you”, explained the pensive Catherine Wheel, who had been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided herself on her broken heart; “but love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. They wrote so much about that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent. I remember myself once- But it is no matter now. Romance is a thing of the past.

To be natural is such a very difficult pose to keep up.

There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.

A true artist takes no notice whatever of the public. The public to him are non-existent.

The only way a woman can ever reform a man is by boring him so completely that he loses all possible interest in life.

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

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.