The one charm of the past is that it is the past.

Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent people we call the dead?

Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?

I don’t write this letter to put bitterness into your heart, but to pluck it out of mine. For my own sake I must forgive you.

More than half of modern culture depends upon what one shouldn't read.

Why can't these American women stay in their own country? They are always telling us that it is the paradise for women. It is. That is the reason why, like Eve, they are so excessively anxious to get out of it.

As for begging, it is safer to beg than to take, but it is finer to take than to beg