Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.

We often marry in despair, so that we repent of it all our life after.

Hypocrisy is a fashionable vice, and all fashionable vices pass for virtue.

Betrayed and wronged in everything, I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is king, and seek some spot unpeopled and apart, where I’ll be free to have an honest heart.