“It is very wrong to kill any one[.]""Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics!”

“Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics!”

“You know I have loved him always.But we are very poor.Who, being loved, is poor? Oh, no one. I hate my riches. They are a burden...”

“Oh! I killed Bunbury this afternoon... I mean poor Bunbury died this afternoon.What did he die of?Bunbury? Oh, he was exploded!”

“I am quite incapable of understanding how any work of art can be criticized from a moral standpoint. The sphere of art and the sphere of ethics are absolutely distinct and separate.”

“Oh I can't explain. When I like people immensely I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it.”

“Jack? . . . No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations . . . I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest.”