Literature Has Nothing To Do With Usefulness;

The Years I Have Squandered In Puerile Excitement, In Going Hither And Thither, In Seeking To Force Nature And Time, I Ought To Have Spent In Solitude And Meditation, In Endeavoring To Make Myself Worthy Of Being Loved.

Only That Which Serves No End Is Beautiful; Everything Useful Is Ugly.

Our Busy Age Does Not Always Have Time To Read, But It Always Has Time To Look.

What I Write Is Not For Little Girls.

It Is Difficult To Obtain The Friendship Of A Cat.