The horrid mystery hanging over us in this house gets into my head like liquor, and makes me wild.

She looked so irresistibly beautiful as she said those brave words that no man alive could have steel his heart against her.

Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper.

The evening advanced. The shadows lengthened. The waters of the lake grew pitchy black. The gliding of the ghostly swans became rare and more rare.

I am not against hasty marriages where a mutual flame is fanned by an adequate income.

I have always held the old-fashioned opinion that the primary object of work of fiction should be to tell a story.

The best men are not consistent in good-- why should the worst men be consistent in evil.