When the heart is flooded with love there is no room in it for fear, for doubt, for hesitation.

There is no harvest for the heart alone. The seed of love must be eternally re-sown.

Parting is inevitably painful, even for a short time. It's like an amputation, I feel a limb is being torn off, without which I shall be unable to function. And yet, once it is done... life rushes back into the void, richer, more vivid and fuller than before.

Communication with another person -- wasn't it the realest thing in life?

Love is a force. . . . It is not a result; it is a cause. It is not a product. It is a power, like money, or steam or electricity. It is valueless unless you can give something else by means of it.

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

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