Fear, born of the stern matron Responsibility, sits on one's shoulders like some heavy imp of darkness, and one is preoccupied and, possibly, cantankerous.

If fate means you to lose, give him a good fight anyhow.

Responsibility's like a string we can only see the middle of. Both ends are out of sight.

The worldly relations of men and women often form an equation that cancels out without warning when some insignificant factor has been added to either side.

It is extraordinary how many emotional storms one may weather in safety if one is ballasted with ever so little gold.

One must choose between obscurity with efficiency, and fame with its inevitable collateral of bluff.

Wives invariably flourish when deserted; ... it is the deserting male, the reckless idealist rushing about the world seeking a non-existent felicity, who often ends in disaster.