Surely it was time someone invented a new plot, or that the author came out from the bushes.

They all dreamt of each other that night, as was natural, considering how thin the partitions were between them, and how strangely they had been lifted off the earth to sit next each other in mid-ocean, and see every detail of each others' faces, and hear whatever they chanced to say.

For what Harley Street specialist has time to understand the body, let alone the mind or both in combination, when he is a slave to thirteen thousand a year?

It is no use trying to sum people up.

There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.... the essay must be pure--pure like water or pure like wine, but pure from dullness, deadness, and deposits of extraneous matter.

The history of most women is hidden either by silence, or by flourishes and ornaments that amount to silence.

Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.