We can’t buy one minute of time with cash; if we could, rich people would live longer.
The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet and greet unknown fate.
It ain’t the roads we take; it’s what’s inside of us that makes us turn out the way we do.
No friendship is an accident.
A good story is like a bitter pill, with the sugar coating inside of it.
I’ll give you the whole secret to short story writing. Here it is. Rule 1: Write stories that please yourself. There is no Rule 2.
Life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
If a person has lived through war, poverty and love, he has lived a full life
Fortune is a prize to be won. Adventure is the road to it. Chance is what may lurk in the shadows at the roadside.
Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey.
Love and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man’s starving!
We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us.
Write what you like; there is no other rule.
Each of us, when our day’s work is done, must seek our ideal, whether it be love or pinochle or lobster à la Newburg, or the sweet silence of the musty bookshelves.
You can’t appreciate home till you’ve left it, money till it’s spent, your wife till she’s joined a woman’s club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.
I’ve got some of my best yarns from park benches, lamp posts and newspaper stands.
If you can’t write a story that pleases yourself, you will never please the public. But in writing the story forget the public.
Most wonderful of all are words, and how they make friends one with another.
There is a saying that no man has tasted the full flavour of life until he has known poverty, love and war. The justness of this reflection commends it to the lover of condensed philosophy. The three conditions embrace about all there is in life worth knowing. A surface thinker might deem that wealth should be added to the list. Not so. When a poor man finds a long-hidden quarter-dollar that has slipped through a rip into his vest lining, he sounds the pleasure of life with a deeper plummet than any millionaire can hope to cast.
There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.
To a woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.
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.
Turn up the lights. I don’t want to go home in the dark.