“Now, girls, if you want to observe a young man hustle out after a pick and shovel, just tell him that your heart is in some other fellow’s grave. Young men are grave-robbers by nature.”

Those whom we first love we seldom marry.

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.

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.

She had become so thoroughly annealed into his life that she was like the air he breathed–necessary but scarcely noticed.

Most wonderful of all are words, and how they make friends one with another.

Whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines.

Life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

No friendship is an accident.

What else can you expect from a town thats shut off from the world by the ocean on one side and New Jersey on the other?

By rights you’re a king. If I was you, I’d call for a new deal.

A straw vote only shows which way the hot air blows.

East is East, and West is San Francisco, according to Californians. Californians are a race of people; they are not merely inhabitants of a State.

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.

Women’s weapon, water-drops.

When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.

Love and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man’s starving!

Riches cannot rescue from the grave, which claims alike the monarch and the slave.

Ah, yet, e’er I descend to th’ grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true

I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.

Lying is before you and the grave is in front of you.

A revolution in consciousness is an empty high without a revolution in the distribution of power. We are not interested in the greening of Amerika except for the grass that will cover its grave.

We danced through the graveyard and between the ruins for the dead and broken sang to our souls.

Even so, one step from my grave, I believe that cruelty, spite, The powers of darkness will in time Be crushed by the spirit of light.

Just as I shall lie alone in the grave, so, in essence, do I live alone.