Sentimentality is the only sentiment that rubs you the wrong way.
I now, weak, old, diseased, poor, dying, hold still my soul in my hands, and I regret nothing.
It is a nuisance that knowledge can only be acquired by hard work.
There is nothing so terrible as the pursuit of art by those who have no talent.
From the earliest time the old have rubbed it into the young that they are wiser, and before the young had discovered what nonsense this was they were old too, and it profited them to carry on the imposture.
It must be a fault in me that I am not gravely shocked at the sins of others unless they personally affect me.