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Mr. Henry James writes fiction as if it were a painful duty.
– Oscar Wilde
Half the pretty women in London smoke cigarettes. Personally I prefer the other half.
Remember that the fool in the eyes of the gods and the fool in the eyes of man are very different.
And certainly once a man begins to neglect his domestic duties he becomes painfully effeminate, does he not And I don’t like that. It makes men so very attractive.
A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love her.
Those who see any difference between soul and body have neither.
The world is simply divided into two classes – those who believe the incredible, like the public – and those who do the improbable.
In a good democracy, every man should be an aristocrat.
It was a fatal day when the public discovered that the pen is mightier than the paving-stone, and can be made as offensive as the brickbat.
What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.
I like men who have a future and women who have a past.
One should never give a woman anything she can’t wear in the evening.
Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.
The well-bred contradict other people. The wise contradict themselves.
You should never try to understand them. Women are pictures. Men are problems. If you want to know what a woman really means – which, by the way, is always a dangerous thing to do – look at her, don’t listen to her.
What is termed Sin is an essential element of progress. Without it the world would stagnate, or grow old, or become colorless.
She lacks the indefinable charm of weakness.
Well, to speak with perfect candour, Cecily, I wish that you were fully forty-two, and more than usually plain for your age.
All the spring may be hidden in the single bud, and the low ground nest of the lark may hold the joy that is to herald the feet of many rose-red dawns.
Ah! Meredith! Who can define him. His style is chaos illumined by flashes of lightning. As a writer he has mastered everything except language: as a novelist he can do anything, except tell a story: as an artist he is everything, except articulate.
A woman’s first duty in life is to her dressmaker, isn’t it? What the second duty is, no one has as yet discovered.
Ah! How I loathe the Romans! They are rough and common, and they give themselves the airs of noble lords.
The history of women is the history of the worst form of tyranny the world has ever known. The tyranny of the weak over the strong. It is the only tyranny that lasts.
It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about nowadays saying things against one behind one’s back that are absolutely and entirely true.
Whenever people agree with me, I always feel I must be wrong.
In France, in fact, they limit the journalist and allow the artist almost perfect freedom. Here we allow absolute freedom to the journalist, and entirely limit the artist.
As for domesticity, it ages one rapidly, and distracts one’s mind from higher things.
When a man has once loved a woman he will do anything for her, except continue to love her.
When a woman marries again it is because she detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.
Women are a fascinatingly wilful sex. Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.