A husband should not insult his wife publicly, at parties. He should insult her in the privacy of the home.

Most of the faint intimations of immortality of which we are occasionally aware would seem to arise out of Art or the materials of Art.

A peril of the night road is that flecks of dust and streaks of bug blood on the windshield look to me like old admirals in uniform, or crippled apple women, or the front edge of barges, and I whirl out of their way, thus going into ditches and fields and up on front lawns, endangering the life of authentic admirals and apple women who may be out on the roads for a breath of air before retiring.

You can fool too many of the people too much of the time.

I am not a cat man, but a dog man, and all felines can tell this at a glance - a sharp, vindictive glance.

You might as well fall flat on your face as lean over too far backward.

The act of writing is either something the writer dreads or actually likes, and I actually like it. Even re-writing's fun. You're getting somewhere, whether it seems to move or not.