The real marriage of true minds is for any two people to possess a sense of humor or irony pitched in exactly the same key, so that their joint glances on any subject cross like interarching searchlights.
In our hurried world too little value is attached to the part of the connoisseur and dilettante.
The other producer of old age is habit: the deathly process of doing the same thing in the same way at the same hour day after day, first from carelessness, then from inclination, at last from cowardice or inertia. Luckily the inconsequent life is not the only alternative; for caprice is as ruinous as routine. Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut, that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.
There are lots of ways of being miserable, but there's only one way of being comfortable, and that is to stop running round after happiness. If you make up your mind not to be happy there's no reason why you shouldn't have a fairly good time.
Beware of monotony; it's the mother of all the deadly sins.
I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you're sick and when you're lonesome.
I begin to see what marriage is for. It's to keep people away from each other. Sometimes I think that two people who love each other can be saved from madness only by the things that come between them - children, duties, visits, bores, relations - the things that protect married people from each other.
There's no such thing as old age, there is only sorrow.
Life is made up of compromises.
Habit is necessary. It is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut, that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive ... one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in the big things, and happy in small ways.
Life has a way of overgrowing its achievements as well as its ruins.
The only way not to think about money is to have a great deal of it.
The desire for symmetry, for balance, for rhythm in form as well as in sound, is one of the most inveterate of human instincts.
Ah, good conversation - there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.
She had been bored all afternoon by Percy Gryce... but she could not ignore him on the morrow, she must follow up her success, must submit to more boredom, must be ready with fresh compliances and adaptibilities, and all on the bare chance that he might ultimately decide to do her the honour of boring her for life.
traditions that have lost their meaning are the hardest of all to destroy.
Blessed are the pure in heart for they have so many more things to talk about.
I don't know that I should care for a man who made life easy; I should want some one who made it interesting.
One of the first obligations of art is to make all useful things beautiful.
Life is the only real counselor; wisdom unfiltered through personal experience does not become a part of the moral tissue.
The true felicity of a lover of books is the luxurious turning of page by page, the surrender, not meanly abject, but deliberate and cautious, with your wits about you, as you deliver yourself into the keeping of the book. This I call reading.
The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.
The only thing to do is to hug one's friends tight and do one's job.
Our blindest impulses become evidence of perspicacity when they fall in with the course of events.
Don't you ever mind," she asked suddenly, "not being rich enough to buy all the books you want?
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