Romantic literature is in effect imaginative lying.

The history of women is the history of the worst form of tyranny the world has ever known. The tyranny of the weak over the strong. It is the only tyranny that lasts.

Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.

Nature....she will hang the night stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send word the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.

The evolution of man is slow. The injustice of men is great.

The only thing that the artist cannot see is the obvious. The only thing that the public can see is the obvious.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face.