This love was a torment, and he resented bitterly the subjugation in which it held him; he was a prisoner and he longed for freedom. Sometimes he awoke in the morning and felt nothing; his soul leaped, for he thought he was free; he loved no longer; but in a little while, as he grew wide awake, the pain settled in his heart, and he knew that he was not cured yet.

The artist can within limits make what he likes of his life... It is only the artist, and maybe the criminal, who can make his own.

Writing is a wholetime job: no professional writer can afford only to write when he feels like it.

So long as some are strong and some are weak, the weak will be driven to the wall.

As lovers, the difference between men and women is that women can love all day long, but men only at times.

A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her...but she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account.

It's asking a great deal that things should appeal to your reason as well as your sense of the aesthetic. - Of Human Bondage