It's only the voice of the tiniest little fraction of people that makes success.

The real world doesn't care a tinker's--doesn't care a bit.

For aught you or I know, every man in the world may be arguing with a Maisie of his own.' 'Poor Maisie!' 'Poor Dick, I think.

Do you believe while he's fighting for what's dearer than his life he wants to look at a picture?
And even if he did, and if all the world did, and a thousand million people rose up and shouted hymns to my honour and glory, would that make up to me for the knowledge that you were out shopping in the Edgware Road on a rainy day without an umbrella?
Now we'll go to the station.' 'But you said on the beach----' persisted Maisie, with a certain fear.
Dick groaned aloud: 'Yes, I know what I said.

My work is everything I have, or am, or hope to be, to me, and I believe I've learnt the law that governs it; but I've some lingering sense of fun left,--though you've nearly knocked it out of me.