And if flying, like a glass-bottomed bucket, can give you that vision, that seeing eye, which peers down on the still world below the choppy waves - it will always remain magic.

war is a thug's game. The thug strikes first and harder. He doesn't go by rules and he isn't afraid of hurting people.

You can’t just write and write and put things in a drawer. They wither without the warm sun of someone else’s appreciation.

the final lesson of learning to be independent - widowhood ... is the hardest lesson of all.

Go with the pain, let it take you. Open your palms and your body to the pain. It comes in waves like the tide and you must be open as a vessel lying on the beach, letting it fill you up and then, retreating, leaving you empty and clear.

My Life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.

... writing letters is thinking, just as talking to you is thinking.