She had become so thoroughly annealed into his life that she was like the air he breathed--necessary but scarcely noticed.

Most wonderful of all are words, and how they make friends one with another.

She plucked from my lapel the invisible strand of lint (the universal act of woman to proclaim ownership).

If you live in an atmosphere of luxury, luxury is yours whether your money pays for it, or another's.

When one loves one's Art no service seems too hard.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

When a man begins to be hilarious in a sorrowful way you can bet a million that he is dyeing his hair.

East is East, and West is San Francisco, according to Californians. Californians are a race of people; they are not merely inhabitants of a State.

It couldn't have happened anywhere but in little old New York.

This fair but pitiless city of Manhattan was without a soul ... its inhabitants were manikins moved by wires and springs.

The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey.

If you can't write a story that pleases yourself, you will never please the public. But in writing the story forget the public.

Of habit, the power that keeps the earth from flying to pieces; though there is some silly theory of gravitation.

All great men have declared that they owe their sucess to the aid and encouragement of some brilliant woman.

It'll be a great place if they ever finish it.

By nature and doctrines I am addicted to the habit of discovering choice places wherein to feed.

A holiday in a new dress—can earth offer anything more enchanting?

Love and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man's starving!

There is a saying that no man has tasted the full flavor of life until he has known poverty, love, and war.

Humans were denied the speech of animals. The only common ground of communication upon which dogs and men can get together is in fiction.

A story with a moral appended is like the bill of a mosquito. It bores you, and then injects a stinging drop to irritate your conscience.

We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us.

Bolivar cannot carry double

Greenwich Village... the village of low rents and high arts.