You can’t appreciate home till you’ve left it, money till it’s spent, your wife till she’s joined a woman’s club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.
O. HENRYLove and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man’s starving!
More O. Henry Quotes
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The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet and greet unknown fate.
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 -
Except in streetcars one should never be unnecessarily rude to a lady.
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 -
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
O. HENRY -
There is a saying that no man has tasted the full flavor of life until he has known poverty, love, and war.
O. HENRY -
History is bright and fiction dull with homely men who have charmed women.
O. HENRY -
It ain’t the roads we take; it’s what’s inside of us that makes us turn out the way we do.
O. HENRY -
A good story is like a bitter pill, with the sugar coating inside of it.
O. HENRY -
Men to whom life had appeared as a reversible coat – seamy on both sides.
O. HENRY -
No friendship is an accident.
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 -
We can’t buy one minute of time with cash; if we could, rich people would live longer.
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 -
She plucked from my lapel the invisible strand of lint (the universal act of woman to proclaim ownership).
O. HENRY