Quotes by Mary Roberts Rinehart

“Gradually I found that my name signed to a check was even more welcome than when signed to a letter,””

“The mystery story is two stories in one: the story of what happened and the story of what appeared to happen.””

“[I]t is really the ponderous books which I envy. How easy merely to put down everything you think or imagine. No holding back, no telling oneself that this does not belong, or that. No hewing to the line. No cutting. No fear of letting the interest die. No wastebasket. How wonderful. And how dull!””

“However, I was not long to rest in piece[sic], for in a few days I received a letter from Carter Brooks, as follows: DEAR BARBARA: It was sweet of you to write me so promptly, although I confess to being rather astonished as well as delighted at being called "Dearest." The signature too was charming, "Ever thine." But, dear child, won't you write at once and tell me why the waist, bust and hip measurements? And the request to have them really low in the neck? Ever thine, CARTER. It will be perceived that I had sent him the letter to mother, by mistake.””

“There are only two things to be done when a general is angry: One is to get behind the furniture and pretend one is not there; the other is to distract his mind.””

“No one moved to get the whisky, from which I judged there were three pocket flasks ready for emergency.””

“She had the theory of youth about love, that it was a violent thing, tempestuous and passionate. She thought that love demanded, not knowing that love gives first, and then asks.””

“All lives are so divided: a step back; a plunge; and then, in desperation and despair, a little climb up God's ladder.””

“I belong to a different generation, I suppose. The old soothing methods do not occur to us. We don’t like our bruises patted or kissed. And our usual answer to any emergency is a drink.””

“...because we are always staring at the stars, we learn the shortness of our arms.””

“Water rolled down the face of the old house like tears,””

“Providence has a curious way of letting two lives run along, each apparently independent of the other. Parallel lines they seem, hopeless of meeting. Converging lines really, destined, through long ages, by every deed that has been done to meet as a certain point and there fuse.””

“There is a sort of melancholy pleasure to be had out of a funeral, with its pomp and ceremony, but I shrank from a death-bed.””

“Her life’s full of exclamation points.””

“I stirred my tea angrily.””