If this was love, love had been overrated.
I call people rich when they’re able to meet the requirements of their imagination.
It is art that makes life, makes interest, makes importance, for our consideration and application of these things, and I know of no substitute whatever for the force and beauty of its process.
Everything about Florence seems to be colored with a mild violet, like diluted wine.
Ideas are, in truth, force.
I’m yours for ever – for ever and ever. Here I stand; I’m as firm as a rock. If you’ll only trust me, how little you’ll be disappointed. Be mine as I am yours.
True happiness, we are told, consists in getting out of one’s self; but the point is not only to get out – you must stay out; and to stay out you must have some absorbing errand.
She was a woman who, between courses, could be graceful with her elbows on the table.
It is no wonder he wins every game. He has never done a thing in his life exept play games.
Her reputation for reading a great deal hung about her like the cloudy envelope of a goddess in an epic.
Ideas are, in truth, forces. Infinite, too, is the power of personality. A union of the two always makes history.
It takes an endless amount of history to make even a little tradition.
Be generous, be delicate, and always pursue the prize.
The only reason for the existence of a novel is that it does attempt to represent life.
I have performed the necessary butchery. Here is the bleeding corpse.
Of course what he most intensely dreams of is being taken out on walks, and the more you are able to indulge him the more will he adore you and the more all the latent beauty of his nature will come out.
The only obligation to which in advance we may hold a novel, without incurring the accusation of being arbitrary, is that it be interesting.
The right time is any time that one is still so lucky as to have.
Life is a predicament which precedes death.
Money’s a horrid thing to follow, but a charming thing to meet.