The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.

Her whole being dilated in an atmosphere of luxury. It was the background she required, the only climate she could breathe in.

To be able to look life in the face: that's worth living in a garret for, isn't it?

In any really good subject, one has only to probe deep enough to come to tears.

If only we'd stop trying to be happy we'd have a pretty good time.

Everything about her was both vigorous and exquisite.