Never quite sure of life unless I find literature in it
    No man ought to live by any art
    No rose blooms right along
    Noble uselessness
    Not lack of quality but quantity of the quality
    Openly depraved by shows of wealth
    Our deeply incorporated civilization
    Our huckstering civilization
    People have never had ideals, but only moods and fashions
    People might oftener trust themselves to Providence
    People of wealth and fashion always dissemble their joy
    Picturesqueness which we should prize if we saw it abroad
    Plagiarism carries inevitable detection with it
    Public whose taste is so crude that they cannot enjoy the best
    Pure accident and by its own contributory negligence
    Put aside all anxiety about style
    Refused to see us as we see ourselves
    Results of art should be free to all
    Reviewers
    Reward is in the serial and not in the book—­19th Century
    Rogues in every walk of life
    Should be very sorry to do good, as people called it
    Should sin a little more on the side of candid severity
    So many millionaires and so many tramps
    So touching that it brought the lump into my own throat
    Solution of the problem how and where to spend the summer
    Some of it’s good, and most of it isn’t
    Some of us may be toys and playthings without reproach
    Summer folks have no idea how pleasant it is when they are gone
    Superiority one likes to feel towards the rich and great
    Take our pleasures ungraciously
    The old and ugly are fastidious as to the looks of others
    Their consciences needed no bossing in the performance
    There is small love of pure literature
    They are so many and I am so few
    Those who decide their fate are always rebelling against it
    Those who work too much and those who rest too much
    Trouble with success is that it is apt to leave life behind
    Two branches of the novelist’s trade:  Novelist and Historian
    Unfailing American kindness
    Visitors of the more inquisitive sex
    Wald with the lurch and the sway of the deck in it
    Warner’s Backlog Studies
    We cannot all be hard-working donkeys
    We who have neither youth nor beauty should always expect it
    Whatever choice you make, you are pretty sure to regret it
    Work not truly priced in money cannot be truly paid in money
    Work would be twice as good if it were done twice