Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery.

Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our gigantic intellects.

I dislike modern memoirs. They are generally written by people who have either entirely lost their memories, or have never done anything worth remembering.

My great mistake, the fault for which I can’t forgive myself, is that one day I ceased my obstinate pursuit of my own individuality.

Women have a wonderful instinct about things. They can discover everything except the obvious.

The job of the critic is to report to us his moods.

Duty is what one expects from others.