He had the uneasy manner of a man who is not among his own kind, and who has not seen enought of the world to feel that all people are in some sense his own kind.

Sometimes I wonder why God ever trusts talent in the hands of women, they usually make such an infernal mess of it. I think He must do it as a sort of ghastly joke.

The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.

Oh, he’s an old friend from the West,” said Eden easily. “I won’t introduce you, because he doesn’t like people. He’s a recluse. Good-bye.

It's all very well to tell us to forgive our enemies; our enemies can never hurt us very much. But oh, what about forgiving our friends?

Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile his friends are everything.