Everything comes to the man who won’t wait.
ADA LEVERSONAbsurdly improbable things are quite as liable to happen in real life as in weak literature.
More Ada Leverson Quotes
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Thou canst not serve both cod and salmon.
ADA LEVERSON -
You don’t really know a woman until she writes you a letter.
ADA LEVERSON -
Feminine intuition, a quality perhaps even rarer in women than in men.
ADA LEVERSON -
an optimist is the man who looks after your eyes, and the pessimist the person who looks after your feet.
ADA LEVERSON -
Most people now seem to treasure anything they value in proportion to the extent that it’s followed about and surrounded by the vulgar public.
ADA LEVERSON -
Fog and hypocrisy – that is to say, shadow, convention, decency – these were the very things that lent to London its poetry and romance.
ADA LEVERSON -
I suggested to Oscar Wilde that he should go a step further than these minor poets; he should publish a book all margin; full of beautiful, unwritten thoughts.
ADA LEVERSON -
She suspected him of infidelity, with and without reason, morning, noon and night.
ADA LEVERSON -
A butler in an English household should, however, be English, and as much like an archbishop as possible.
ADA LEVERSON -
Many women I know think the ideal of happiness is to be in love with a great man, or to be the wife of a great public success; to share his triumph! They forget you share the man as well!
ADA LEVERSON -
A morbid propensity that causes great suffering in domestic life is often curiously infectious to the very person for whom it creates most suffering.
ADA LEVERSON -
There may be something in this theory, but when their amusements are carried to such a point of luxurious and imaginative perfection it certainly gives them great and even unlimited enjoyment at the time.
ADA LEVERSON -
All really frank people are amusing, and would remain so if they could remember that other people may sometimes want to be frank and amusing too.
ADA LEVERSON -
You don’t know a woman until you have had a letter from her.
ADA LEVERSON -
Looking at the poems of John Gray when I saw the tiniest rivulet of text meandering through the very largest meadow of margin,
ADA LEVERSON







