The literary woman, unsatisfied, agitated, desolate in heart and entrails, listening every minute with painful curiosity to the imperative which whispers from the depths of her organism "aut liberi aut libri [either children or books]." Twilight of the Idols
The one duty we owe to history is to rewrite it. The Critic as Artist
It is unlikely that the good of a snail should reside in its shell: so is it likely that the good of a man should? Discourses
Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Quotes