He Was Like A Child With Haemophilia:

And There, In That Phrase, The Bitterness Leaks Again Out Of My Pen. What A Dull Lifeless Quality This Bitterness Is. If I Could I Would Write With Love, But If I Could Write With Love I Would Be Another Man; I Would Never Have Lost Love.

I Wish Sometimes You Had A Few Bad Motives, You Might Understand A Little More About Human Beings.

A Ruling Passion Gives To A Shelf Of Novels The Unity Of A System.

So It Always Is: When You Escape To A Desert The Silence Shouts In Your Ear.

Sentimentality - That's What We Call The Sentiment We Don't Share.