Life was a fairy-tale, then, it is a tragedy now. When I was 43 and John Hay 41 he said life was a tragedy after 40, and I disputed it. Three years ago he asked me to testify again: I counted my graves, and there was nothing for me to say. I am old; I recognize it but I don't realize it. I wonder if a person ever really ceases to feel young - I mean, for a whole day at a time.

A good memory and a tongue tied in the middle is a combination which gives immortality to conversation.

What ought to be done to the man who invented the celebrating of anniversaries? Mere killing would be too light.

We have to be despised by somebody whom we regard as above us, or we are not happy; we have to have somebody to worship and envy,or we cannot be content. In America we manifest this in all the ancient and customary ways. In public we scoff at titles and hereditary privilege, but privately we hanker after them, and when we get a chance we buy them for cash and a daughter.

I have been an author for 20 years and an ass for 55.

One of the brightest gems in the New England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it.

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.