there is something shameful about the death of a play. It does not die with pity, but contempt. A book may fail, but who is there to know it? It dies and is buried, and is decently interred on the bookseller's shelf; but the play dies to laughter, to scorn and disdain.
Mary Roberts RinehartEvery crucial experience can be regarded as a setback - or a start of a new kind of development. [You have the responsibility to decide if you will see it as a bad setback or good start!]
Mary Roberts Rinehartthe calm of a place like Bellwood is the peace of death without the hope of resurrection.
Mary Roberts Rinehartas all women know, there are really no men at all. There are grown-up boys, and middle-aged boys, and elderly boys, and even sometimes very old boys. But the essential difference is simply exterior. Your man is always a boy.
Mary Roberts RinehartWar is not two great armies meeting in the clash and frenzy of battle. War is a boy being carried on a stretcher, looking up at Godโs blue sky with bewildered eyes that are soon to close; war is a woman carrying a child that has been injured by a shell; war is spirited horses tied in burning buildings and waiting for death; war is the flower of a race, battered, hungry, bleeding, up to its knees in filthy water; war is an old woman burning a candle before the Mater Dolorsa for the son she has given.
Mary Roberts Rinehart