Almost All Novels Are Love Stories.

A Woman, When She Is Heroic, Is Not Heroic By Halves.

One Is Happy As A Result Of One's Own Efforts, Once One Knows Of The Necessary Ingredients Of Happiness-simple Tastes, A Certain Degree Of Courage, Self-denial To A Point, Love Of Work, And, Above All, A Clear Conscience. Happiness Is No Vague Dream, Of That I Now Feel Certain.

We Do Not Die Of Anguish, We Live On. We Continue To Suffer. We Drink The Cup Drop By Drop.

If People Were Not Wicked I Should Not Mind Their Being Stupid; But, To Our Misfortune, They Are Both.

The Masses Are Still Ungrateful Or Ignorant. They Prefer Murder, Poisonings, And Crimes Generally To A Literature Possessed Of Style And Feeling.