"Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures or statues, who cannot find a great deal ..." — Nathaniel Hawthorne

Nobody has any conscience about adding to the improbabilities of a marvelous tale.

The only sensible ends of literature are, first, the pleasurable toil of writing; second, the gratification of one's family and friends; and lastly, the solid cash.

Our Creator would never have made such lovely days, and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought, unless we were meant to be immortal.

The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.