Assumptions are dangerous things.

I was thinking, that when my time comes, I should be sorry if the only plea I had to offer was that of justice. Because it might mean that only justice would be meted out to me.

It's so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody than to be a feather in his cap.

I, myself, was always recognized . . . as the “slow one” in the family. It was quite true, and I knew it and accepted it. Writing and spelling were always terribly difficult for me. My letters were without originality. I was . . . an extraordinarily bad speller and have remained so until this day.

I don't know. I don't know at all. And that's what's frightening the life out of me. To have no idea.

These little grey cells. It is up to them.

I can think of nothing more soul destroying in life than to persist in trying to do a thing you want desperately to do well, and to know that you are at the best second rate.