It was a magic caused by the collision of modern methods and old ones; modern history and ancient; accessibility and isolation. And it was a magic which could only strike spark about that time. A few years earlier, from the point of view of aircraft alone, it would have been impossible to reach these places; a few later, and there will be no such isolation.

It is only in solitude that I ever find my own core.

By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.

Why is life speeded up so? Why are things so terribly, unbearably precious that you can't enjoy them but can only wait breathless in dread of their going?

Nothing feeds the center of being so much as creative work. The curtain of mechanization has come down between the mind and the hand.

Can you write a book and have children at the same time? Yes, if you're content to do it very very slowly.

Geniuses were like storms or cyclones, pulling everything into their path, sticks and stones and dust.