There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.

We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us.

Greenwich Village... the village of low rents and high arts.

I've got some of my best yarns from park benches, lamp posts and newspaper stands.

A story with a moral appended is like the bill of a mosquito. It bores you, and then injects a stinging drop to irritate your conscience.

When one loves one's Art no service seems too hard.

Men to whom life had appeared as a reversible coat - seamy on both sides.