A straw vote only shows which way the hot air blows.
O. HENRYBe always decent and right in your home town; and when you’re on the road, never take more than four glasses of beer a day or play higher than a twenty-five-cent limit.
More O. Henry Quotes
-
-
My advice to you, if you should ever be in a hold up, is to line up with the cowards and save your bravery for an occasion when it may be of some benefit to you.
O. HENRY -
To a woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.
O. HENRY -
A story with a moral appended is like the bill of a mosquito. It bores you, and then injects a stinging drop to irritate your conscience.
O. HENRY -
Bride knoweth bride at the glance of an eye. And between them swiftly passes comfort and meaning in a language that man and widows wot not of.
O. HENRY -
Broadway – the great sluice that washes out the dust of the gold-mines of Gotham.
O. HENRY -
Except in streetcars one should never be unnecessarily rude to a lady.
O. HENRY -
Whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines.
O. HENRY -
By rights you’re a king. If I was you, I’d call for a new deal.
O. HENRY -
Of habit, the power that keeps the earth from flying to pieces; though there is some silly theory of gravitation.
O. HENRY -
She had become so thoroughly annealed into his life that she was like the air he breathed–necessary but scarcely noticed.
O. HENRY -
If a person has lived through war, poverty and love, he has lived a full life.
O. HENRY -
Those whom we first love we seldom marry.
O. HENRY -
Whenever he saw a dollar in another man’s hands he took it as a personal grudge, if he couldn’t take it any other way.
O. HENRY -
Be always decent and right in your home town; and when you’re on the road, never take more than four glasses of beer a day or play higher than a twenty-five-cent limit.
O. HENRY -
Each of us, when our day’s work is done, must seek our ideal, whether it be love or pinochle or lobster à la Newburg, or the sweet silence of the musty bookshelves.
O. HENRY