There are very few bad people. There are just a lot of people that are unlucky.

People always think that happiness is a faraway thing … something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up.

Well, there's a little bit of man in every woman and a little bit of woman in every man.

It takes a lot of doing to die.

She went out and took a last long look at the shabby little library. She knew she would never see it again. Eyes changed after they looked at new things. If in the years to be she were to come back, her new eyes might make everything seem different from the way she saw it now. The way it was now was the way she wanted to remember it.

I'll not punish you for having an imagination.

They learned no compassion from their own anguish. thus their suffering was wasted.