In Europe life is histrionic and dramatized, and in America, except when it is trying to be European, it is direct and sincere.

I wonder why we hate the past so.

If ever the public was betrayed by its press, it's ours.

A friend knows how to allow for mere quantity in your talk, and only replies to the quality.

There will presently be no room in the world for things; it will be filled up with the advertisements of things.

A man never sees all that his mother has been to him until it's too late to let her know that he sees it.

Is it worth while to observe that there are no Venetian blinds in Venice?