Forsythia is pure joy. There is not an ounce, not a glimmer of sadness or even knowledge in forsythia. Pure, undiluted, untouched joy.

But I want first of all- in fact, as an end to these other desires- to be at peace with myself.

Duration is not a test of truth or falsehood.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.

war is a thug's game. The thug strikes first and harder. He doesn't go by rules and he isn't afraid of hurting people.

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

If one is estranged from oneself, then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others.