The very commonplaces of life are components of its eternal mystery.

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

Our impulses are our birthright. To alter personality would be unjust, almost criminal, for the impulses that make a fool or worse of us in certain circumstances may be necessary for our happiness.

Here is a simple recipe to begin with. Get up every morning with the set intention of writing and go to your desk and sit there for three hours, whether you accomplish anything or not. Before long you will find that you are writing madly, not waiting for inspiration.

A little superstition is a good thing to keep in one's bag of precautions.

It took me some time to learn that although every one secretly cherishes the ambition to be 'put in a book,' no one is ever satisfied with anything save incense, butter, and honey, unrelieved by salt or spice.

The very commonplaces of life are components of its eternal mystery.