Characters must not brood too long. They must not waste time running up and down ladders in their own insides.

It is the vice of a vulgar mind to be thrilled by bigness, to think that a thousand square miles are a thousand times more wonderful than one square mile, and that a million square miles are almost the same as heaven.

I won't be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult.

I do like Christmas on the whole.... In its clumsy way, it does approach Peace and Goodwill. But it is clumsier every year.

“It is Fate that I am here,” persisted George. “But you can call it Italy if it makes you less unhappy.”

Give, do not lend; after death who will thank you?

We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet.