To think of losing is to lose already.

London life was very full and exciting [...] But in London there would be no greenhouse with a glossy tank, and no apple-room, and no potting-shed, earthy and warm, with bunches of poppy heads hanging from the ceiling, and sunflower seeds in a wooden box, and bulbs in thick paper bags, and hanks of tarred string, and lavender drying on a tea-tray.

Anticipation of pleasure is a pleasure in itself.

I wish I could write librettos for the rest of my life. It is the purest of human pleasures, a heavenly hermaphroditism of being both writer and musician. No wonder that selfish beast Wagner kept it all to himself.

... possessiveness cannot accept; it cannot even strike a fair bargain; it has to confer.

There are not enough poems in praise of bed.

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