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 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.

It is so much easier to tell intimate things in the dark.

A young man must let his ideas grow, not be continually rooting them up to see how they are getting on.

There is nothing like a start, and being born, however pessimistic one may become in later years, is undeniably a start.

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.

There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.