Ideas Are, In Truth, Force.

An Englishman's Never So Natural As When He's Holding His Tongue.

London Doesn't Love The Latent Or The Lurking, Has Neither Time, Nor Taste, Nor Sense For Anything Less Discernible Than The Red Flag In Front Of The Steam-roller. It Wants Cash Over The Counter And Letters Ten Feet High.

I Would Give All I Possess To Get Out Of Myself; But Somehow, At The End, I Find Myself So Vastly More Interesting Than Nine Tenths Of The People I Meet.

Art Without Life Is A Poor Affair.

...and The Great Advantage Of Being A Literary Woman, Was That You Could Go Everywhere And Do Everything.