I Revolted From Sentimentality, Less Because It

Yes, I Learned Long Ago That The Only Satisfaction Of Authorship Lies In Finding The Very Few Who Understand What We Mean. As For Outside Rewards, There Is Not One That I Have Ever Discovered.

Idealism, That Gaudy Coloring Matter Of Passion, Fades When It Is Brought Beneath The Trenchant White Light Of Knowledge. Ideals, Like Mountains, Are Best At A Distance.

Although The Primitive In Art May Be Both Interesting And Impressive, As Portrayed In American Fiction It Is Conspicuous For Dullness Alone. Drab Persons Living Drab Lives, Observed By Drab Minds And Reported In Drab Writing.

I Suppose I Am A Born Novelist, For The Things I Imagine Are More Vital And Vivid To Me Than The Things I Remember.

What A Man Marries For's Hard To Tell ... An' What A Woman Marries For's Past Findin' Out.