Self-admiration giveth much consolation.

It is a pretty trick of authors to make nature ever in sympathy with man, but as a matter of fact she seldom is.

The only real rival of love is Art, for that in itself is a deep personal passion, its function an act of creation, fed by some mysterious perversion of sex, and demanding all the imagination's activities.

Self-admiration giveth much consolation.

Nowhere can it rain harder and with a more tiresome persistence than in California during the brief season when it rains at all.

The minority of one generation is usually the majority of the next.

Civilization in certain respects is as inadequate as it was a thousand years ago.