I think the whole glory of writing lies in the fact that it forces us out of ourselves and into the lives of others.

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

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.

The disease we all have and that we have to fight against all our lives is ... the disease of self.

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

As time passed and he grew to know people better, he began to think of himself as an extraordinary man, one set apart from his fellows. He wanted terribly to make his life a thing of great importance, and as he looked about at his fellow men and saw how like clods they lived it seemed to him that he could not bear to become also such a clod.

I have seldom written a story, long or short, that I did not have to write and rewrite. There are single stories of mine that have taken me ten or twelve years to get written.