It is only framed in space that beauty blooms; only in space are events, and objects and people unique and significant and therefore beautiful.

Woman must be the pioneer in this turning inward for strength. In a sense, she has always been the pioneer.

One learns to accept the fact that no permanent return is possible to an old form of relationship; and, more deeply still, that there is no holding of a relationship to a single form. This is not tragedy but part of the ever-recurrent miracle of life and growth.

Only when a tree has fallen can you take the measure of it. It is the same with a man.

These bright roofs, these steep towers, these jewel-lakes, these skeins of railroad line - all spoke to her and she answered. She was glad they were there. She belonged to them and they to her. . . . She had not lost it. She was touching it with her fingertips. This was flying: to go swiftly over the earth you loved, touching it lightly with your fingertips, holding the railroads lines in your hand to guide you, like a skein of wool in a spider-web game - like following Ariadne's thread through the Minotaur's maze, Where would it lead, where?

Rivers perhaps are the only physical features of the world that are at their best from the air.

One learns first of all in beach living the art of shedding; how little one can get along with, not how much.