There is this thing called life. We live it, not as we intend or wish, but as we are driven on by forces outside and inside ourselves.

Dare to be strong and courageous. That is the road. Venture anything.

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.

...she thought that something unexpressed in herself came forth and became a part of an unexpressed something in them.

The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men.

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

Many people must live and die alone, even in Winesburg.