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

My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.

Mrs. Ballinger is one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, as though it were dangerous to meet it alone.

Since the Americans have ceased to have dyspepsia, they have lost the only thing that gave them any expression.

I believe I know the only cure, which is to make one’s center of life inside of one’s self, not selfishly or excludingly, but with a kind of unassailable serenity—to decorate one’s inner house so richly that one is content there, glad to welcome anyone who wants to come and stay, but happy all the same when one is inevitably alone.

Dialogue in fiction should be reserved for the culminating moments and regarded as the spray into which the great wave of narrative breaks in curving towards the watcher on the shore.

I'd almost say it's the worries that make married folks sacred to each other.