Be kind to unkind people. They need it the most.
Why is the place where I want to be so often so far from where I am?
I always like to know what I'm doing, but there are times when nobody will tell me.
More books have resulted from somebody's need to write than from anybody's need to read.
I want to appreciate you now, and avoid the rush.
At what point in my struggle with nature will nature finally give up?