There was no warning, not even a knock. The door flew open, and he forgot his present aches and pains in anticipation of what lay in store. The figure that stood in the door was not that of an enemy. It was worse. It was his mother.

The only way to do it is to do it: by writing, writing, writing.

stereotypes are awfully misleading. There are typical librarians, but not all librarians are typical.

..he continues to cling to the forlorn hope that I will turn into one of those swooning females...and fling myself squeeling at him whenever anything happens. Like all men, he clings to his illusions.

You are softening toward the young rascal because he is ill, and because he says he likes cats." "It is an engaging quality, Emerson." "That depends," said Emerson darkly, "on how he likes them.

It was hate at first sight, clean, pure and strong as grain alcohol.

Marriage, in my view, should be a balanced stalemate between equal adversaries.