Art Without Life Is A Poor Affair.

My Sole Wish Is To Frustrate As Utterly As Possible The Post-mortem Exploiter.

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.

I Ought To Tell You That I'm Probably Your Cousin.

Keep Making The Movements Of Life.

Her Imagination Was By Habit Ridiculously Active; When The Door Was Not Open It Jumped Out The Window.