Facts Always Are Sensational.

I Think That Art Has Something To Do With An Arrest Of Attention In The Midst Of Distraction.

He Believed That He Must, That He Could And Would Recover The Good Things, The Happy Things, The Easy Tranquil Things Of Life. He Had Made Mistakes, But He Could Overlook These. He Had Been A Fool, But That Could Be Forgiven. The Time Wasted--must Be Relinquished. What Else Could One Do About It? Things Were Too Complex, But They Might Be Reduced To Simplicity Again. Recovery Was Possible.

... A Fellow Can't Predict What He Will Pick Up In The Form Of Influence.

I’ve Had All The Monstrosity I Want.

A Novel Is Balanced Between A Few True Impressions And The Multitude Of False Ones That Make Up Most Of What We Call Life.