First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity: no really self-respecting woman would take advantage of it.

Go anywhere in England where there are natural, wholesome, contented, and really nice English people; and what do you always find? That the stables are the real center of the household.

Life levels all men. Death reveals the eminent.

I want to be all used up when I die.

Dying is a troublesome business: there is pain to be suffered, and it wrings one's heart; but death is a splendid thing --a warfare accomplished, a beginning all over again, a triumph. You can always see that in their faces.

The things most people want to know about are usually none of their business.

Common people do not pray; they only beg.

A man who has no office to go to -- I don't care who he is -- is a trial of which you can have no conception.

A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of hell.

Here there is no hope, and consequently no duty, no work, nothing to be gained by praying, nothing to be lost by doing what you like. Hell, in short, is a place where you have nothing to do but amuse yourself.