Perhaps too much of everything is as bad as too little.

Life can’t defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer’s lover until death.

Writers should be read but not seen. Rarely are they a winsome sight.

Perhaps too much of everything is as bad as too little.

Living the past is a dull and lonely business; looking back strains the neck muscles, causing you to bump into people not going your way.

A stricken tree, a living thing, so beautiful, so dignified, so admirable in its potential longevity, is, next to man, perhaps the most touching of wounded objects.

Christmas isn’t a season. It’s a feeling.

Big doesn’t necessarily mean better. Sunflowers aren’t better than violets.

A woman can look both moral and exciting… if she also looks as if it was quite a struggle.

A closed mind is a dying mind.

If American politics are too dirty for women to take part in, there’s something wrong with American politics.

Any garment which is cut to fit you is much more becoming, even if it is not so splendid as a garment which has been cut to fit somebody not of your stature.

Being an old maid is like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle.