The Writer Is More Concerned To Know

One Does Not Really Feel Much Grief At Other People's Sorrows; One Tries, And Puts On A Melancholy Face, Thinking Oneself Brutal For Not Caring More; But One Cannot And It Is Better, For If One Grieved Too Deeply At Other People's Tears, Life Would Be Unendurable; And Every Man Has Sufficient Sorrows Of His Own Without Taking To Heart His Neighbour's.

People Who Ask For Your Criticism Want Only Praise.

I Don't Know Why It Is That The Religious Never Ascribe Common Sense To God.

Perfection Has One Grave Defect: It Is Apt To Be Dull.

The Artist Produces For The Liberation Of His Soul. It Is His Nature To Create As It Is The Nature Of Water To Run Down The Hill.