There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses.

My dear boy, the people who only love once in their lives are really the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect—simply a confession of failures.

I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects.

It is only intellectually lost who ever argue.

Sono così intelligente che a volte non capisco una sola parola di quel che sto dicendo.