... to be "literary" appeared to my deluded innocence as an unending romance.

There is no monster more destructive than the inventive mind that has outstripped philosophy.

Words, like acts, become stale when they are repeated.

Cruelty, I truly believe, is the one and only sin.

The only difference between a rut and a grave are the dimensions.

...America has enjoyed the doubtful blessing of a single-track mind. We are able to accommodate, at a time, only one national hero; and we demand that that hero shall be uniform and invincible. As a literate people we are preoccupied, neither with the race nor the individual, but with the type. Yesterday, we romanticized the "tough guy;" today, we are romanticizing the underprivileged, tough or tender; tomorrow, we shall begin to romanticize the pure primitive.

The share of the sympathetic publisher in the author's success - the true success so different from the ephemeral - is apt to be overlooked in these blatant days, so it is just as well that some of us should keep it in mind.