Woman dwell always in the palace of unpalatable truth and never by any chance is there a magic talisman to save them from their destiny. Speech is their ultimate need. We men exist for them only in so far as we can be described.

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

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

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.

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

There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.

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.