She doth mean the earth to me! By earth, I actually mean dust.

What is beautiful is a joy for all seasons.

Mr. Henry James writes fiction as if it were a painful duty.

A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want.

Every woman becomes their mother. That's their tragedy. And no man becomes his. That's his tragedy.

Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.

Perhaps in nearly every joy, as certainly in every pleasure, cruelty has its place.