Whatever is felt upon the page without being specifically named there — that, one might say, is created.

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.

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

One summer evening in the year 1848, three Cardinals and a missionary were dining together in the gardens of a villa in the Sabine hills, overlooking Rome.

No nation has ever produced great art that has not made a high art of cookery, because art appeals primarily to the senses.

Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones.

People always think the bread of another country is better than their own.