I do not like talking casually to people - it does not interest me - and most of them are unwilling to talk at all seriously.

The intellectual is constantly betrayed by his vanity. Godlike he blandly assumes that he can express everything in words; whereas the things one loves, lives, and dies for are not, in the last analysis completely expressible in words.

I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God.

Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces.

A note of music gains significance from the silence on either side.

The nicest gifts are those left, nameless and quiet, unburdened with love, or vanity, or the desire for attention.

A simple enough pleasure, surely, to have breakfast alone with one's husband, but how seldom married people in the midst of life achieve it.