One's Sentiments -- Call Them That --

She Had One Of Those Charming Faces Which, According To The Angle From Which You See Them, Look Either Melancholy Or Impertinent. Her Eyes Were Grey; Her Trick Of Narrowing Them Made Her Seem To Reflect, The Greater Part Of The Time, In The Dusk Of Her Second Thoughts. With That Mood, That Touch Of Arriere Pensee, Went An Uncertain, Speaking Set Of Lips.

The Craft Of The Novelist Does Lie First Of All In Story-telling.

...the Power-loving Temperament Is More Dangerous When It Either Prefers Or Is Forced To Operate In What Is Materially A Void. Wehave Everything To Dread From The Dispossessed.

Never To Lie Is To Have No Lock On Your Door, You Are Never Wholly Alone.

I Think The Main Thing, Don't You, Is To Keep The Show On The Road.