Love is like the measles, all the worse when it comes late.

my family, although it keeps its hair, turns gray early - a business asset but a social handicap.

having considerable mind, changing it became almost as ponderous an operation as moving a barn, although not nearly so stable.

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.

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.

A cat and a Bible, and nobody needs to be lonely.

Herbert used to say that he was as tight as the paper on the wall.