Seven
Fashionable women have a manner of sitting down quite different from that of ordinary women. They only touch the back of the chair at the top. They don’t loll but they only escape lolling by dint of gracefulness. It is an affair of curves, slants, descents, nicely calculated. They elaborately lead your eye downwards over gradually increasing expanses, and naturally you expect to see their feet—and you don’t see their feet. The thing is apt to be disturbing to unhabituated beholders.
Eight
There are moments in the working day of every novelist when he feels deeply that anything—road-mending, shop-walking, housebreaking—would be better than this eternal torture of the brain; but such moments pass.
Nine
During a long and varied career as a bachelor, I have noticed that marriage is usually the death of politeness between a man and a woman. I have noticed that the stronger the passion the weaker the manners.
Ten
My sense of security amid the collisions of existence lies in the firm consciousness that just as my body is the servant of my mind, so is my mind the servant of me.
Eleven
The fault of the epoch is the absence of meditativeness.