Mediocrity would always win by force of numbers, but it would win only more mediocrity.

Spring, which germinated in the earth, moved also with a strange restlessness, in the hearts of... women. As the weeks passed, inextinguishable hope, which mounts with the rising sap, looked from their faces.

marriage is mostly puttin' up with things, I reckon, when it ain't makin' believe.

No, one couldn't make a revolution, one couldn't even start a riot, with sheep that asked only for better browsing.

The nearer she came to death, the more, by some perversity of nature, did she enjoy living.

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.

In her single person she managed to produce the effect of a majority.