Edith Wharton
Edith Wharton
Edith Whartonwas a Pulitzer Prize-winning American novelist, short story writer, and designer. She was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1927, 1928 and 1930. Wharton combined her insider's view of America's privileged classes with a brilliant, natural wit to write humorous, incisive novels and short stories of social and psychological insight. She was well acquainted with many of her era's other literary and public figures, including Theodore Roosevelt...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth24 January 1862
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
They belonged to that vast group of human automata who go through life without neglecting to perform a single one of the gestures executed by the surrounding puppets.
In our hurried world too little value is attached to the part of the connoisseur and dilettante.
There are two ways to spread happiness; either be the light who shines it or be the mirror who reflects it.
Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut, that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.
The only thing to do is to hug one's friends tight and do one's job.
We live in our own souls as in an unmapped region, a few acres of which we have cleared for our habitation; while of the nature of those nearest us we know but the boundaries that march with ours.
My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.
No insect hangs its nest on threads as frail as those which will sustain the weight of human vanity.
The only way not to think about money is to have a great deal of it.
Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.
In any really good subject, one has only to probe deep enough to come to tears.
I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.
Beware of monotony; it's the mother of all the deadly sins.
Ah, good conversation - there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.