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William Dean Howells (1837 – 1920)


American realist author and literary critic.
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William Dean Howells
Some people can stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.
Howells quotes
"Yes, what the American public wants is a tragedy with a happy ending."
Howells
He who sleeps in continual noise is wakened by silence.




Howells William Dean quotes
The secret of the man who is universally interesting is that he is universally interested.
Howells William Dean
Clemens was sole, incomparable, the Lincoln of our literature.
William Dean Howells quotes
I am not sorry for having wrought in common, crude material so much; that is the right American stuff; and perhaps hereafter, when my din is done, if anyone is curious to know what that noise was, it will be found to have proceeded from a small insect which was scraping about on the surface of our life and trying to get into its meaning for the sake of the other insects larger or smaller. That is, such has been my unconscious work; consciously, I was always, as I still am, trying to fashion a piece of literature out of the life next at hand.
William Dean Howells
See how today's achievement is only tomorrow's confusion;
See how possession always cheapens the thing that was precious.
Howells William Dean quotes
And before you know me gone
Eternity and I are one.
Howells
The action is best that secures the greatest happiness for the greatest number.
Howells William Dean
We live, but a world has passed away
With the years that perished to make us men.
William Dean Howells
The mortality of all inanimate things is terrible to me, but that of books most of all.




William Dean Howells quotes
There will presently be no room in the world for things; it will be filled up with the advertisements of things.
William Dean Howells
Lord, for the erring thought
Not into evil wrought:
Lord, for the wicked will
Betrayed and baffled still:
For the heart from itself kept,
Our thanksgiving accept.
Howells quotes
The wrecks of slavery are fast growing a fungus crop of sentiment.
Howells William Dean
Her mouth is a honey-blossom,
No doubt, as the poet sings;
But within her lips, the petals,
Lurks a cruel bee that stings.
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