Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face. It cannot be concealed. People talk sometimes of secret vices, there are no such things. If a wretched man has a vice, it shows itself in the lines of his mouth, the droop of his eyelids, the moulding of his hands even.

It was you I thought of all the time, I gave to them the love you did not need: lavished on them a love that was not theirs.

Truth, in matters of religion, is simply the opinion that has survived.

There are moments when one has to choose between living one's own life, fully, entirely, completely-or dragging out some false, shallow, degrading existence that the world in its hypocrisy demands.

It is always with the best intentions that the worst work is done.

No publisher should ever express an opinion of the value of what he publishes. That is a matter entirely for the literary critic to decide.

A sentimentalist is simply one who desires to have the luxury of an emotion without paying for it.