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

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.

The difference between literature and journalism is that journalism is unreadable and literature is not read.

When I ask for a water cress sandwich, I do not mean a loaf with a field in the middle of it.

Experience is a question of instinct about life.

Don't feed the trolls; nothing fuels them so much.

I am very glad I have travelled. Travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all one's prejudices.