There Are Few Sorrows In Which A

It Is The Wretchedness Of Being Rich That You Have To Live With Rich People.

I Find A Fascination, Like The Fascination For The Moth Of A Star, In Those Who Hold Aloof And Disdain Me.

I Can't Forgive My Friends For Dying; I Don't Find These Vanishing Acts Of Theirs At All Amusing.

Solvency Is Entirely A Matter Of Temperament And Not Of Income.

What Things There Are To Write, If One Could Only Write Them! My Mind Is Full Of Gleaming Thought; Gay Moods And Mysterious, Moth-like Meditations Hover In My Imagination, Fanning Their Painted Wings. But Always The Rarest, Those Streaked With Azure And The Deepest Crimson, Flutter Away Beyond My Reach.