To one who has led a virtuous life, to sin is the easiest thing in the world. No experience of unpleasant consequences grits that smooth sliding fall, no recollection of disillusionment blurs that pure desire.

The Church has lost a great religious poet in me; but I have lost an infinity of fun in the church, so the loss is even.

Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.

But what are wishes, compared with longings?

Of all damnable offenses preaching prudence to the young is the most damnable.

I wasn't educated. I was very lucky.

Spring is strictly sentimental, self-regarding; but I burn more careless in the autumn bonfire.