No More Learning

The world is perfectly packed with good women. To know them is a
middle-class education.

Hesitation of any kind is a sign of mental decay in the young, of
physical weakness in the old.

Our husbands never appreciate anything in us. We have to go to others
for that.

Most women in London nowadays seem to furnish their rooms with nothing
but orchids, foreigners and French novels.

The canons of good society are, or should be, the same as the canons of
art. Form is absolutely essential to it. It should have the dignity of a
ceremony as well as its unreality, and should combine the insincere
character of a romantic play with the wit and beauty that make such
plays delightful to us. Is sincerity such a terrible thing? I think not.
It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities.

The tragedy of old age is not that one is old but that one is young.

A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all
creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating.
The worse
their rhymes are the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having
published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible.
He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry
that they dare not realise.

Being adored is a nuisance. Women treat us just as humanity treats its
gods. They worship us, and are always bothering us to do something for
them.

If a man treats life artistically his brain is his heart.

The 'Peerage' is the one book a young man about town should know
thoroughly, and it is the best thing in fiction the English have ever
done.

The world has always laughed at its own tragedies, that being the only
way in which it has been able to bear them. Consequently whatever the
world has treated seriously belongs to the comedy side of things.

The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint
has a past and every sinner has a future.

What is termed sin is an essential element of progress. Without it the
world would stagnate or grow old or becomes colourless. By its curiosity
it increases the experience of the race. Through its intensified
assertion of individualism it saves us from the commonplace.