Ellen Glasgow Quotes - Page 6

It is lovely, when I forget all birthdays, including my own, to find that somebody remembers me.

Evidently, whatever else marriage might prevent, it was not a remedy for isolation of spirit.

I ain't never seen no head so level that it could bear the lettin' in of politics.

What fools people are when they think they can make two lives belong together by saying words over them.

marriage is mostly puttin' up with things, I reckon, when it ain't makin' believe.

What a man marries for's hard to tell ... an' what a woman marries for's past findin' out.

And where was happiness if it sprung not from the soil? Where contentment if it dwelt not near to Nature?

Some women enjoy unhappy love affairs, you know, though I have always felt that they are greatly overrated.

I suppose I am a born novelist, for the things I imagine are more vital and vivid to me than the things I remember.

the old alone have finality. What is true of the young today may be false tomorrow. They are enveloped in emotion; and emotion as a state of being is fluent and evanescent.

Youth is always an enemy to the old.

It would appear, from the best examples, that the proper way of beginning a preface to one's work is with a humble apology for having written at all.

A doctrine of endurance flows easily from our lips when we are enduring jam and our neighbors dry bread, and it is still possible for us to become resigned to the afflictions of our brother.

Tilling the fertile soil of man's vanity.

Experience has taught me that the only cruelties people condemn are those with which they do not happen to be familiar.

I liked human beings, but I did not love human nature.

The things I feared were not in the sky, but in the nature and in the touch of humanity. The cruelty of children . . . the blindness of the unpitiful - these were my terrors. But not the crash of thunder overhead, not the bolts of fire from the clouds.

One cannot lay a foundation by scattering stones, nor is a reputation for good work to be got by strewing volumes about the world.

for my own purpose, I defined the art of fiction as experience illuminated.

... the life of the mind is reality, and love without romantic illumination is a spiritless matter.

Cruelty, I truly believe, is the one and only sin.

Like all born politicians, their eye was for the main chance rather than for the argument, and they found it easier to forswear a conviction than to forego a comfort.

Nobody, not even the old, not even the despairing, wished to come to an end in time or in eternity.

O God, let me write books! Please, God, let me write books!

[Reformers] might be classified as a distinct species having eyes in the back of their heads.