To read between the lines was easier than to follow the text.

She had her own way of doing all that she did, and this is the simplest description of a character which, although by no means without liberal motions, rarely succeeded in giving an impression of suavity.

We must grant the artist his subject, his idea, his donn´e: our criticism is applied only to what he makes of it.

His kiss was like white lightning, a flash that spread, and spread again, and stayed.

You seemed to me to be soaring far up in the blue - to be sailing in the bright light, over the heads of men. Suddenly some one tosses up a faded rosebud - a missile that should never have reached you - and down you drop to the ground.

Never say you know the last word about any human heart.

She had an unequalled gift, especially pen in hand, of squeezing big mistakes into small opportunities.