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Curious, how one remembered Christmas. Perhaps because other days might appeal to the head, but this one appealed to the heart.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
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Mary Roberts Rinehart
Age: 82 †
Born: 1876
Born: August 12
Died: 1958
Died: September 22
Journalist
Novelist
Nurse
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Pittsburg
Pennsylvania
Mary Rinehart
Days
Appealed
Might
Appeal
Heart
Appeals
Remembered
Christmas
Curious
Perhaps
Head
More quotes by Mary Roberts Rinehart
Used to move so much, every time the chickens saw the team put in the wagon, they'd lie down on their backs and hold their legs up to be tied!
Mary Roberts Rinehart
having considerable mind, changing it became almost as ponderous an operation as moving a barn, although not nearly so stable.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
The author lives with one foot in an everyday world and the other feeling about anxiously for a foothold in another more precarious one.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
There is a point at which curiosity becomes unbearable, when it becomes an obsession, like hunger.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
pretense is the oil that lubricates society.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
I have never learned to say 'gas' for gasoline. It seems to me as absurd as if I were to say 'but' for butter.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
A cat and a Bible, and nobody needs to be lonely.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
Men play harder than they work women work harder than they play.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
Young Doctor Arden was gong through the process of reorienting himself after a night's sleep.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
Conflict is the very essence of life.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
McKnight is gradually taking over the criminal end of the business.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
I have a great deal of mind. It takes a long time to change it.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
To the bottle! In infancy, the milk bottle in our prime, the wine bottle in our dotage, the pill bottle.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
There is something shameful about the death of a play. It does not die with pity, but contempt.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
the calm of a place like Bellwood is the peace of death without the hope of resurrection.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
there is something shameful about the death of a play. It does not die with pity, but contempt. A book may fail, but who is there to know it? It dies and is buried, and is decently interred on the bookseller's shelf but the play dies to laughter, to scorn and disdain.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
Men... look back on the children who were once themselves, and attempt to reconstruct them. But they can no longer think like the child.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
Besides, you want the unvarnished and ungarnished truth, and I'm no hand for that. I'm a lawyer.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
as all women know, there are really no men at all. There are grown-up boys, and middle-aged boys, and elderly boys, and even sometimes very old boys. But the essential difference is simply exterior. Your man is always a boy.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
We are often miserable at our desk or typewriters, but not happy away from them.
Mary Roberts Rinehart
