Terrible and sublime thought, that every moment is supreme for some man and woman, every hour the apotheosis of some passion!

The artist in his teens who is happy is a charlatan. Life comes bursting in all around lis too suddenly, too crudely, too cruelly, for happiness.

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.

The artist isn't particularly keen on getting a thing done, as you call it. He gets his pleasure out of doing it, playing with it, fooling with it, if you like. The mere completion of it is an incident.

Terrible and sublime thought, that every moment is supreme for some man and woman, every hour the apotheosis of some passion!

The wives who are not deserted, but who have to feed and clothe and comfort and scold and advise, are the true objects of commiseration; wives whose existence is given over to a ceaseless vigil of cantankerous affection.

A trouble is a trouble, and the general idea, in the country, is to treat it as such, rather than to snatch the knotted cords from the hand of God and deal out murderous blows.