Talent wears well, genius wears itself out; talent drives a snug brougham in fact; genius, a sun-chariot in fancy.

Hypocrites weep, and you cannot tell their tears from those of saints; but no bad man ever laughed sweetly yet.

Fancy tortures more people than does reality

Intensely selfish people are always very decided as to what they wish. They do not waste their energies in considering the good of others.

Honor is an old-world thing; but it smells sweet to those in whose hand it is strong.

Nature I believe in. True art aims to, represent men and women, not as my little self would have them, but as they appear. My heroes and heroines I want not extreme types, all good or all bad; but human, mortal--partly good, partly bad. Realism I need. Pure mental abstractions have no significance for me.

Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.