She Is Written In A Foreign Tongue.

One Of My Latest Sensations Was Going To Lady Airlie's To Hear Browning Read His Own Poems - With The Comport Of Finding That, At Least, If You Don't Understand Them, He Himself Apparently Understands Them Even Less. He Read Them As If He Hated Them And Would Like To Bite Them To Pieces.

A Swift Carriage, Of A Dark Night, Rattling With Four Horses Over Roads That One Can’t See--that’s My Idea Of Happiness.

London Is On The Whole The Most Possible Form Of Life.

Art Is Nothing More Than The Shadow Of Humanity.

Never Say You Know The Last Word About Any Human Heart.