The here, the now, and the individual, have always been the special concern of the saint, the artist, the poet, and - from time immemorial - the woman. In the small circle of the home she has never quite forgotten the particular uniqueness of each member of the family; the spontaneity of now; the vividness of here. This is the basic substance of life. These are the individual elements that form the bigger entities like mass, future, world. We may neglect these elements, but we cannot dispense with them. They are the drops that make up the stream. They are the essence of life itself.

People talk about love as if it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers.

It's funny how you can be mad at someone one moment and want to hug them the next.

God may want you to be the answer to your own prayer.

Yesterday's fairy tale is today's fact. The magician is only one step ahead of his audience.

I can conceive of 'falling in love' over and over again. But 'marriage,' this richness of life itself, I cannot conceive of having again - or with anyone else. In this sense 'marriage' seems to me indissoluble.

Lost time is like a run in a stocking. It always gets worse.