My father taught me that a bill is like a crying baby and has to be attended to at once.

For it is not merely the trivial which clutters our lives but the important as well

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

After all, I don't see why I am always asking for private, individual, selfish miracles when every year there are miracles like white dogwood.

There comes a moment when the things one has written, even a traveler's memories, stand up and demand a justification. They require an explanation. They query, 'Who am I? What is my name? Why am I here?

Only when a tree has fallen can you take the measure of it. It is the same with a man.

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.