Everything about her was warm and soft and scented; even the stains of her grief became her as raindrops do the beaten rose.

There was no use in trying to emancipate a wife who had not the dimmest notion that she was not free.

It must be less wicked to love the wrong person than not to love anybody at all.

She said she knew we were safe with you, and always would be, because once, when she asked you to, you'd given up the thing you most wanted." Archer received this strange communication in silence. His eyes remained unseeingly fixed on the thronged sunlit square below the window. At length he said in a low voice: "She never asked me.

There is too much sour grapes for my taste in the present American attitude. The time to denounce the bankers was when we were all feeding off their gold plate; not now! At present they have not only my sympathy but my preference. They are the last representatives of our native industries.

Why do we call all our generous ideas illusions, and the mean ones truths?

Don't they always go from bad to worse? There's no turning back--your old self rejects you, and shuts you out. ~Lilly Bart