“If a man loves the labour of his trade, apart from any question of success or fame, the gods have called him.”

Nothing like a little judicious levity.

The mark of a good action is that it appears inevitable in retrospect.

Each has his own tree of ancestors, but at the top of all sits Probably Arboreal.

So long as we love, we serve; so long as we are loved by others.

You could read Kant by yourself, if you wanted; but you must share a joke with some one else.

I should say that we are almost indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.

Books are good enough in their own way, but they are a poor substitute for life.

The web, then, or the pattern, a web at once sensuous and logical.

In marriage, a man becomes slack and selfish, and undergoes a fatty degeneration of his moral being.

You cannot run away from weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?

The Devil, can sometimes do a very gentlemanly thing.

Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us.

That man is a success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much.

To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.

To become what we are capable of becoming is the only end in life.

I would address an affectionate exhortation to the youthful literati, grounded on my own experience. It will be but short; for the beginning, middle, and end converge to one charge: NEVER PURSUE LITERATURE AS A TRADE.

Glamour is what I sell, it’s my stock in trade.

Britain has always been at its most successful when it’s a trading nation.

We want a fully comprehensive trade deal that reflects our deep, ongoing relationship, the friendship between our two countries.