Paris is a hard place to leave, even when it rains incessantly and one coughs continually from the dampness.

Give the people a new word and they think they have a new fact.

There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, holding nothing back.

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

Some people's lives are affected by what happens to their person or their property; but for others fate is what happens to their feelings and their thoughts -- that and nothing more.

Sometimes," I ventured, "it doesn't occur to boys that their mother was ever young and pretty. . . I couldn't stand it if you boys were inconsiderate, or thought of her as if she were just somebody who looked after you. You see I was very much in love with your mother once, and I know there's nobody like her.

After all, the supreme virtue in all art is soul, perhaps it is the only thing which gives art a right to be.