If there was only one tree like that in the world, you would think it was beautiful. But because there are so many, you just can't see how beautiful it really is.

I want to live for something. I don't want to live to get charity food to give me enough strength to go back to get more charity food.

There's a tree that grows in Brooklyn. Some people call it the Tree of Heaven. No matter where its seed falls, it makes a tree which struggles to reach the sky. It grows in boarded-up lots and out of neglected rubbish heaps. It grows up out of cellar gratings. It is the only tree that grows out of cement. It grows lushly . . . survives without sun, water, and seemingly without earth. It would be considered beautiful except that there are too many of it.

She had become accustomed to being lonely. She was used to walking alone and to being considered 'different.' She did not suffer too much.

New York! I've always wanted to see it and now I've see it. It's true what they say-- it's the most wonderful city in the world.

It takes a lot of doing to die.

I know that's what people say-- you'll get over it. I'd say it, too. But I know it's not true. Oh, youll be happy again, never fear. But you won't forget. Every time you fall in love it will be because something in the man reminds you of him.