Art creates an incomparable and unique effect, and, having done so, passes on to other things. Nature, upon the other hand, forgetting that that imitation can be made the sincerest form of insult, keeps on repeating this effect until we all become absolutely wearied of it.

Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons. We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. With us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one center of pain.

Pleasure is the only thing one should live for, nothing ages like happiness.

The man who can dominate a London dinner-table can dominate the world.

We have quite the same ideas. No; I think our ideas are quite different. But he has been most pleasant.

The condition of perfection is idleness: the aim of perfection is youth.

If it took Labouchere three columns to prove that I was forgotten, then there is no difference between fame and obscurity.