Some day some one will write a book about that frantic search of the creative worker for silence and freedom, not only from interruption but from the fear of interruption.

What a tragedy it was that the only thing age could offer to youth was its own experience, and that the experiences of others were never profitable.

I have never learned to say 'gas' for gasoline. It seems to me as absurd as if I were to say 'but' for butter.

It's money that brings trouble. It always has and it always will.

McKnight is gradually taking over the criminal end of the business.

Curious, how one remembered Christmas. Perhaps because other days might appeal to the head, but this one appealed to the heart.

It takes a good many years and some pretty hard knocks to make people tolerant.