I should fancy, however, that murder is always a mistake. One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner.
Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.
In the common world of fact the wicked were not punished, nor the good rewarded. Success was given to the strong, failure thrust upon the weak. That was all.
Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world's original sin. If the cave-man had known how to laugh, History would have been different.
You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.
When I like people immensely I never tell their names to anyone. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy.
Natürlich ist die Ehe nur Gewohnheit. Eine schlechte sogar. Aber man bedauert sogar den Verlust der schlechten Gewohnheit. Kann sein, dass man sie sogar am meisten bedauert.
Most people become bankrupt through having invested too heavily in the prose of life. To have ruined one's self over poetry is an honour.
Well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth. To test reality we must see it on the tight rope. When the verities become acrobats, we can judge them.
The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror.
When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
the costume of the nineteenth century is detestable. It is so sombre, so depressing. Sin is the only real colour-element left in modern life.
Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks.
If I could get back my youth, I'd do anything in the world except get up early, take exercise or be respectable.
There are edges around the black and every now and then a flash of color streaks out of the gray. But I can never really grasp any of the slivers of memories that emerge.
The clouds rolled over the hills like a pack of midgets wearing gray togas somersaulting in unison, and I thought it’s a glorious day to be alive and in love.
Work hard or don’t work hard, either way your hair will turn gray. I should let you be alone while you die, slowly.
I’m getting gray hair in all sorts of crazy places. Like all over my carpet. It’s like I live in a nursing home, except without all the sex.
My hair isn’t turning gray. It’s actually silver, and it’s going up in value, so you’d better buy it before the currency is completely devalued.
How come they get to be gray-haired and still in love with each other, while Lilly tears out what's left of my heart and dumps it into her Jill-The-Ripper shredder?
It would be altogether simpler if the rugged man before her wore gray, but instead he would be handsomely attired in Union blue.
