There is something shameful about the death of a play. It does not die with pity, but contempt.

I believe that the matter is automatically self-regulating; that those women who prefer the home and have an ability for it will eventually return to it; that others, like myself, will compromise; and that still others, temperamentally unfitted for it, will remain in the world to add to its productivity.

Love sees clearly, and seeing, loves on. But infatuation is blind; when it gains sight, it dies.

[On fishing:] Greatest rest in the world for the brain.

Lightning never strikes twice in the same place.

The writing career is not a romantic one. The writer's life may be colorful, but his work itself is rather drab.

There is nothing for the modern man or woman to fear about most cases of cancer. Nothing except delay.