You can make a killing as a playwright in America, but you can't make a living.

Most people are afraid to trust their imaginations and the artist is not.

It may be life is only worthwhile at moments. Perhaps that is all we ought to expect.

I think you know that when an American stays away from New York too long something happens to him. Perhaps he becomes a little provincial, a little dead and afraid.

People keep on getting married. Evidently hope is eternal in the human breast.

What is to be got at to make the air sweet, the ground good under the feet, can only be got at by failure, trial, again and again and again failure.

You can make a killing as a playwright in America, but you can't make a living.