When people are free to do as they please, they usually imitate each other.

We all begin life as parasites within the mother, and writers begin their existence imitatively, within the body of letters.

To refrain from imitation is the best revenge.

We are, in truth, more than half what we are by imitation.

Imitation is the sincerest flattery.

The sense of inferiority inherent in the act of imitation breeds resentment. The impulse of the imitators is to overcome the model they imitate.

No living person is sunk so low as not to be imitated by somebody.

Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from the imitation of those whom we cannot resemble.

When the bad imitate the good, there is no knowing what mischief is intended.

Universities are filled with poets and novelists conducting demure and careful lives in imitation of Eliot and Forster and those others who (through what seems to be have been discretion) made it.