Crying is the refuge of plain women but the ruin of pretty ones.
Category: Cries And Crying
The true critic is he who bears within himself the dreams and ideas and feelings of myriad generations, and to whom no form of thought is alien, no emotional impulse obscure.
The critic has to educate the public; the artist has to educate the critic.
That is what the highest criticism really is, the record of one's own soul. It is more fascinating than history, as it is concerned simply with oneself. It is more delightful than philosophy, as its subject is concrete and not abstract, real and not vague. It is the only civilized form of autobiography.
Temperament is the primary requisite for the critic -- a temperament exquisitely susceptible to beauty, and to the various impressions that beauty gives us.
On an occasion of this kind it becomes more than a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes a pleasure.
What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.
Category: Cynics And Cynicism
As long as a woman can look ten years younger than her own daughter, she is perfectly satisfied.
Alas, I am dying beyond my means.
For he who lives more lives than one: More deaths than one must die.
I am dying beyond my means.
Once can survive everything nowadays, except death.
Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.
Through our sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his sodden face follows close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning and Shame sits with us at night.
She wore far too much rouge last night and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in a woman.