When yellow lights struggle with blue shades in hairlike lines.

That cold accretion called the world, so terrible in the mass, is so non formidable, even pitiable, in its units.

Women are so strange in their influence that they tempt you to misplaced kindness.

Yes; quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down you'd treat if met where any bar is, or help to half-a-crown.

We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.

I may do some good before I am dead--be a sort of success as a frightful example of what not to do; and so illustrate a moral story.

You don't talk quite like a girl who has had no advantages.