Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.
Life is a comedy for those who think... and a tragedy for those who feel.
Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of a man at twice its natural size.
If we didn't live venturously, plucking the wild goat by the beard, and trembling over precipices, we should never be depressed, I've no doubt; but already should be faded, fatalistic and aged
In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.
The interest in life does not lie in what people do, nor even in their relations to each other, but largely in the power to communicate with a third party, antagonistic, enigmatic, yet perhaps persuadable, which one may call life in general.
Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.
To enjoy freedom we have to control ourselves.
Humor is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue
Language is wine upon the lips
The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
Life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning
Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.
Literature is strewn with the wreckage of those who have minded beyond reason the opinion of others
As a woman, I have no country. As a woman my country is the world.
A woman must have money and room of her own if she is to write fiction
If woman had no existence save in the fiction written by men, one would imagine her a person of the utmost importance; very various; heroic and mean; splendid and sordid; infinitely beautiful and hideous in the extreme; as great as a man, some think
For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title
It is far harder to kill a phantom than a reality
It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.
Women have burnt like beacons in all the works of all the poets from the beginning of time
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.
I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.