I want first of all - in fact, as an end to these other desires - to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can. I want, in fact - to borrow from the language of the saints - to live 'in grace' as much of the time as possible. I am not using this term in a strictly theological sense. By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony.

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

I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.

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

The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer, to work out his thoughts; the musician, to compose; the saint, to pray. But women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.

It is nice to think how one can be recklessly lost in a daisy!

The collector walks with blinders on; he sees nothing but the prize. In fact, the acquisitive instinct is incompatible with true appreciation of beauty.