There are a few editor men with whom I am privileged to come in contact. It has not been long since it was their habit to come in contact with me. There is a difference.
O. HENRYMen to whom life had appeared as a reversible coat – seamy on both sides.
More O. Henry Quotes
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By rights you’re a king. If I was you, I’d call for a new deal.
O. HENRY -
The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey.
O. HENRY -
When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.
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 -
I’ll give you the whole secret to short story writing. Here it is. Rule 1: Write stories that please yourself. There is no Rule 2.
O. HENRY -
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl.
O. HENRY -
All great men have declared that they owe their sucess to the aid and encouragement of some brilliant woman.
O. HENRY -
There is this difference between the grief of youth and that of old age; youth’s burden is lightened by as much of it as another shares; old age may give and give, but the sorrow remains the same.
O. HENRY -
We can’t buy one minute of time with cash; if we could, rich people would live longer.
O. HENRY -
It was beautiful and simple, as truly great swindles are.
O. HENRY -
It gives men courage and ambition and the nerve for anything. It has the colour of gold, is clear as a glass and shines after dark as if the sunshine were still in it.
O. HENRY -
When a man begins to be hilarious in a sorrowful way you can bet a million that he is dyeing his hair.
O. HENRY -
Of habit, the power that keeps the earth from flying to pieces; though there is some silly theory of gravitation.
O. HENRY -
What is the world at its best but a little round field of the moving pictures with two walking together in it?
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