The dead might as well try to speak to the living as the old to the young.

[Mark Twain] is still the rough, awkward, good-natured boy who swore at the deck hands when he was three years old. Thoroughly likeable as a good fellow, but impossible as a man of letters.

The sun was like a great visiting presence that stimulated and took its due from all animal energy. When it flung wide its cloak and stepped down over the edge of the fields at evening, it left behind it a spent and exhausted world.

I first met Myra Henshawe when I was fifteen, but I had known her about ever since I could remember anything at all.

I don't want anyone reading my writing to think about style. I just want them to be in the story.

Money is a protection, a cloak; it can buy one quiet, and some sort of dignity.

When we look back, the only things we cherish are those which in some way met our original want; the desire which formed in us in early youth, undirected, and of its own accord.