Truth out of season was sourer than strawberries at Christmas time.

Now everybody who knows anything at all knows perfectly well that even a business letter does not deserve the paper on which it is written unless it contains at least one significant phrase that is worth waking up in the night to remember and think about.

Marriage is not for me. I tell you that I am Blank Verse. I am talent, and I do not rhyme with Love. I am talent and I do not rhyme with man.

The Pretty Lady's brains were almost entirely in her fingers.

I have a theory that no child ever does outgrow its ungratified legitimate desires; though subsequent maturity may bring him to the point where his original desire has reached such astounding proportions that the original object can no longer possibly appease it.

If Beauty is excuse enough for Being, it sure takes Plainness then to feel the real necessity for—Doing.

Love was a fever that came along a few years after chicken-pox and measles and scarlet fever.