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.

I cannot love people in the country, I discover, because there is always this danger that they may be acquaintances, with all the perils and choleras of acquaintance implicit in them; but in London they seem as charming as rabbits.

There are some women ... in whom conscience is so strongly developed that it leaves little room for anything else.

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.

Reason is a poor hand at prophecies.

The baby romped on my lap like a short stout salmon.

[On an anarchist acquaintance:] Everything in appearance the most alarmist aunt could wish.