Of two evils, I always choose the lesser.

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.

a trouble shared is a trouble half endured.

The seasons run with swift feet.

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

To my way of thinking and working, the greatest service a piece of fiction can do any reader is to force him to lay it down with a higher ideal of life than he had when he took it up.

You cannot write on the heart of another what you do not feel yourself.