It is probable that both in life and in art the values of a woman are not the values of a man.

There was a day when I liked writing letters -- it has gone. Unfortunately the passion for getting them remains.

Fatigue is the safest sleeping draught.

Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another. Nature and letters seem to have a natural antipathy; bring them together and they tear each other to pieces.

Young women... you are, in my opinion, disgracefully ignorant. You have never made a discovery of any sort of importance. You have never shaken an empire or led an army into battle. The plays by Shakespeare are not by you, and you have never introduced a barbarous race to the blessings of civilization. What is your excuse?

I read the book of Job last night, I don't think God comes out well in it.

So the days pass, and I ask myself whether one is not hypnotized, as a child by a silver globe, by life, and whether this is living.