The nation which once held the creed that greatness is achieved by production, is now told that it is achieved by squalor.

You love your work. God help you, you love it! And thats the curse. That's the brand on your forehead for all of them to see. You love it and they know it, and they know they have you. Do you ever look at the people in the street? Aren't you afraid of them? I am. They move past you and they wear hats and they carry bundles. But that's not the substance of them. The substance of them is hatred for any man who loves his work. That's the only kind they fear. I don't know why

And questions give us no rest. We know not why our curse makes us seek we know not what, ever and ever. But we cannot resist it. It whispers to us that there are great things on this earth of ours, and that we can know them if we try, and that we must know them. We ask, why must we know, but it has no answer to give us. We must know that we may know.

Remember that rights are moral principles which define and protect a man's freedom of action, but impose no obligations on other men.

She knew that she could not have reached this white serenity except as the sum of all the colors, of all the violence she had known.

I think it's a sin to sit down and let your life go without making a try for it.

A man's rights are not violated by a private individual's refusal to deal with him.