Being a woman is a terribly difficult trade, since it consists principally of dealing with men.

There are men here and there to whom the whole of life is like an after-dinner hour with a cigar; easy, pleasant, empty, perhaps enlivened by some fable of strife to be forgotten before the end is told.

Who knows what true loneliness is-not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.

The terrorist and the policeman both come from the same basket.

A man's most open actions have a secret side to them.

All ambitions are lawful except those which climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind.

An artist is a man of action, whether he creates a personality, invents an expedient, or finds the issue of a complicated situation.

They talk of a man betraying his country, his friends, his sweetheart. There must be a moral bond first. All a man can betray is his conscience.

To have his path made clear for him is the aspiration of every human being in our beclouded and tempestuous existence.

It is not Justice the servant of men, but accident, hazard, Fortune-the ally of patient Time-that holds an even and scrupulous balance.