Every intoxicating delight of early spring was in the air. The breeze that fanned her cheek was laden with subtle perfume and the crisp, fresh odor of unfolding leaves.

How a big majority of book critics and authors have come to believe and to teach that no book is true to life unless it is true to the worst in life, God knows.

What was money that it should make such dreadful things of men and women?

Sometimes it seems to me that the more we get hurt in this world the decenter it makes us.

The seasons run with swift feet.

There was an exquisitely beautiful conception in my brain when I did this piece of work all alone from midnight until morning after the experience of a wonderful day. But I was not able to make the consummation anywhere nearly as beautiful as the inspiration. That, I suppose, is the cry of every heart struggling for self-expression.

we know by the odour that occasionally we are visited by skunks, which are not poetic but very beautiful.