Children love their parents. Eventually they come to judge them. Rarely do they forgive them.
I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know anything about.
All sins, except a sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon.
I summed up all systems in a phrase, and all existence in an epigram.
There is no mode of action, no form of emotion, that we do not share with the lower animals. It is only by language that we rise above them, or above each other---by language, which is the parent, and not the child, of thought.
It is to do nothing that the elect exist. Action is limited and relative. Unlimited and absolute is the vision of him who sits at ease and watches, who walks in loneliness and dreams.
In the old days men had the rack. Now they have the Press.
And alien tears will fill for him Pity's long-broken urn, For his mourners will be outcast men, And outcasts always mourn.
Women are made to be loved, not understood.
The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous.
All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.
Meredith is a prose Browning, and so is Browning. He used poetry as a medium for writing in prose.
Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.
Do you really think, Arthur, that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to.
If there was less sympathy in the world, there would be less trouble in the world.
Mr. Henry James writes fiction as if it were a painful duty.
Patriotism is the vice of nations.
His style is chaos illumined by flashes of lightning.
It is absurd to have a hard and fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn't. More than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn't read.
Mothers, of course, are all right. They pay a chap's bills and don't bother him. But fathers bother a chap and never pay his bills.
I know not whether Laws be right, Or whether Laws be wrong; All that we know who lie in gaol Is that the wall is strong; And that each day is like a year, A year whose days are long.
She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses, cried the young Student; but in all my garden there is no red rose.
He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.
For a sentimentalist is simply one who desires to have the luxury of an emotion without paying for it.
There is no necessity to separate the monarch from the mob; all authority is equally bad.