Nowadays three witty turns of phrase and a lie make a writer.

All art is a revolt against man’s fate.

A frenzied passion for art is a canker that devours everything else.

I hate the whole race. There is no believing a word they say—your professional poets, I mean—there never existed a more worthless set than Byron and his friends for example.

I cannot live without books, but fewer will suffice where amusement, and not use, is the only future object.