People say that life is the thing, but I prefer reading.
The test of enjoyment is the remembrance which it leaves behind.
There are two things to aim at in life: first, to get what you want; and after that, to enjoy it. Only the wisest of mankind achieve the second.
An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.
A slight touch of friendly malice and amusement towards those we love keeps our affections for them from turning flat.
All my life, as down an abyss without a bottom. I have been pouring van loads of information into that vacancy of oblivion I call my mind.
If you are losing your leisure, look out! You are losing your soul.
It is the wretchedness of being rich that you have to live with rich people.
What is more mortifying than to feel that you have missed the plum for want of courage to shake the tree?
Style is a magic wand, and turns everything to gold that it touches.
What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers.
What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for beauty, and never see the dawn!
Our names are labels, plainly printed on the bottled essence of our past behavior.
You cannot be both fashionable and first-rate
If it's to be, it's up to me.
The denunciation of the young is a necessary part of the hygiene of older people, and greatly assists the circulation of the blood.
We need two kinds of acquaintances, one to complain to, while to the others we boast.
I can't forgive my friends for dying; I don't find these vanishing acts of theirs at all amusing.
We need new friends; some of us are cannibals who have eaten their old friends up; others must have ever-renewed audiences before whom to re-enact the ideal version of their lives.
How can they say my life is not a success? Have I not for more than sixty years got enough to eat and escaped being eaten?
All mirrors are magical mirrors, and we never see our faces in them.
Friends such as we desire are dreams and fables, yet we never quite give up the hope of finding them.
If we shake hands with icy fingers, it is because we have burnt them so horribly before.
Those who set out to serve both God and Mammon soon discover that there isn't a God.
Fine writers should split hairs together, and sit side by side, like friendly apes, to pick the fleas from each others fur.
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