The difference between farce and humour in literature is, I suppose, that farce strums louder and louder on one string, while humour varies its note, changes its key, grows and spreads and deepens until it may indeed reach tragic depths.

A natural New Yorker is a native of the present tense.

The peculiar foreign superstition that the English do not like love, the evidence being that they do not talk about it.

Well, youth is the period of assumed personalities and disguises. It is the time of the sincerely insincere.

Among the masked dandies of Edwardian comedy, Max Beerbohm is the most happily armored by a deep and almost innocent love of himself as a work of art.

A short story is. . .frequently the celebration of character at bursting point.

All writers - all people - have their stores of private and family legends which lie like a collection of half-forgotten, often violent toys on the floor of memory.