She plucked from my lapel the invisible strand of lint (the universal act of woman to proclaim ownership).
O. HENRYThere is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.
More O. Henry Quotes
-
-
The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey.
O. HENRY -
I’ve got some of my best yarns from park benches, lamp posts and newspaper stands.
O. HENRY -
In the Big City a man will disappear with the suddenness and completeness of the flame of a candle that is blown out.
O. HENRY -
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.
O. HENRY -
Perhaps there is no happiness in life so perfect as the martyr’s.
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 -
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 -
Love and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man’s starving!
O. HENRY -
Turn up the lights. I don’t want to go home in the dark.
O. HENRY -
He seemed to be made of sunshine and blood-red tissue and clear weather.
O. HENRY -
Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.
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 -
It’ll be a great place if they ever finish it.
O. HENRY -
It’s said that love makes the world go around. Let me tell you, the announcement lacks verification. It’s the wind from the dinner horn that does it.
O. HENRY -
When I see a shipwreck, I like to know what caused the disaster. I learned nothing but the glow that wrapped her face when the soup came. That’s the story.
O. HENRY






