Women are constantly trying to commit suicide for love, but generally they take care not to succeed.

A good rule for writers: do not explain overmuch.

It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it.

She’s wonderful. Tell her I’ve never seen such beautiful hands. I wonder what she sees in you.” Waddington, smiling, translated the question. “She says I’m good.” “As if a woman ever loved a man for his virtue,” Kitty mocked.

What do we any of us have but our illusions? And what do we ask of others but that we be allowed to keep them?

You see, money to you means freedom; to me it means bondage.

Loving-kindness is the better part of goodness. It lends grace to the sterner qualities of which this consists.