My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.

Misfortune had made Lily supple instead of hardening her, and a pliable substance is less easy to break than a stiff one.

Life is the only real counselor; wisdom unfiltered through personal experience does not become a part of the moral tissue.

In any really good subject, one has only to probe deep enough to come to tears.

I have never known a novel that was good enough to be good in spite of its being adapted to the author's political views.

I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.

I don't know if I should care for a man who made life easy; I should want someone who made it interesting.

He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime.

Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut, that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.

Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, old age flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.

Life is always a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.

A New York divorce is in itself a diploma of virtue.

Beware of monotony; it's the mother of all the deadly sins.

To be able to look life in the face: that's worth living in a garret for, isn't it?