It has long been a tradition among novel writers that a book must end by everybody getting just what they wanted, or if the conventional happy ending was impossible, then it must be a tragedy in which one or both should die. In real life very few of us get what we want, our tragedies don't kill us, but we go on living them year after year, carrying them with us like a scar on an old wound.

Your vivid, exciting companionship in the office must not be your audience, you must find your own quiet center of life, and write from that to the world.

Youth, art, love, dreams, true-heartedness - why must they go out of the summer world into darkness?

There was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her colors still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor.

That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.

Too much detail is apt, like any other form of extravagance, to become slightly vulgar.

No one can build his security upon the nobleness of another person.