The sky was a midnight-blue, like warm, deep, blue water, and the moon seemed to lie on it like a water-lily, floating forward with an invisible current.

Desire is creation, is the magical element in that process. If there were an instrument by which to measure desire, one could foretell achievement.

Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness.

Look at my papa here; he's been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.

The fact that I was a girl never damaged my ambitions to be a pope or an emperor.

Now that Stevenson is dead I can think of but one English- speaking author who is really keeping his self-respect and sticking forperfection. Of course I refer to that mighty master of language and keen student of human actions and motives, Henry James.

A creative writer can do his best only with what lies within the range and character of his deepest sympathies.