Glamour cannot exist without personal social envy being a common and widespread emotion.

The past grows gradually around one, like a placenta for dying.

We never look at just one thing; we are always looking at the relation between things and ourselves.

That we find a crystal or a poppy beautiful means that we are less alone, that we are more deeply inserted into existence than the course of a single life would lead us to believe.

We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice.

The poverty of our century is unlike that of any other. It is not, as poverty was before, the result of natural scarcity, but of a set of priorities imposed upon the rest of the world by the rich.

To be desired is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.

Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.

Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at.

The past is the one thing we are not prisoners of. We can do with the past exactly what we wish. What we can't do is to change its consequences.

The human imagination... has great difficulty in living strictly within the confines of a materialist practice or philosophy. It dreams, like a dog in its basket, of hares in the open.

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

...един добър мъж е толкова силен, колкото е нужно на подходящата за него жена.

Ellysetta Baristani." Belliard's voice caused her to stop and turn back around. "Even should you clothe yourself in rags and dirt, you would bring honor to the Fey.

Children throw tantrums because they've imagined their 'father in heaven' does so. And because, their inherited religious book has, in written, shown them so.

Men love their ideas more than their lives. And the more preposterous the idea, the more eager they are to die for it. And to kill for it.

Because I knew it wasn't for forever." Grace touched his hair and he bent his head to kiss her, quiet as a secret.

Once you start writing a character visually, you're in trouble.

I'm a vegetarian. I believe that we're all equal. I ain't got no right to kill. Say a fly comes in my house, I tolerate that little a**hole.

And there'd be no more jokes in Music-halls To mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume.