She had certain thoughts which were like companions, ideas which were like older and wiser friends.

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

I wondered if the life that was right for one was ever right for two!

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.

A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of things more than the things themselves.

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.

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