Art and religion (they are the same thing, in the end, of course) have given man the only happiness he has ever had.

The trees and shrubbery seemed well-groomed and social, like pleasant people.

All Southern women wished of their menfolk was simply to be 'like Paris handsome and like Hector brave'.

It does not matter much whom we live with in this world, but it matters a great deal whom we dream of.

In New Mexico, he always awoke a young man, not until he arose and began to shave did he realize that he was growing older. His first consciousness was a sense of the light dry wind blowing in through the windows, with the fragrance of hot sun and sage-brush and sweet clover; a wind that made one's body feel light and one's heart cry 'To-day, to-day,' like a child's.

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off.

Thirty or forty years ago, in one those grey towns along the Burlington railroad which are so much greyer to-day than they were then, there was a house well know from Omaha to Denver for its hospitality and for a certain charm of atmosphere.