Lower a bucket into a well of self-deception, and what comes up must…

First, think in as homely a way as you can; next, shove your pen under the thought, and lift it by polysyllables to the true level of fiction

Art is not imitation but illusion.

What young woman is not, more or less, a mirror?

Well, every one for himself, and Providence for us all--as the elephant said when he danced among the chickens.

The fortunate man is he who, born poor, or nobody, works gradually up to wealth and consideration, and, having got them, dies before he finds they were not worth so much trouble.

In players, vanity cripples art at every step.