Like a small animal burrowing into its hole, I shift furniture around, and back myself into a cozy corner, with my back to the wall...and then I can write.

I did it at night because I loved it. I never did it to make money, as a job. I just did it because I had to.

I don't need a man to be happy. I had a great one , that was good enough. I don't expect to find another one like him, and why settle for anything less? I'm going ot be perfectly content alone.--Marya

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be in our lives forever. Maybe some people are just passing through. It's like some people just come through our lives to bring us something: a gift, a blessing, a lesson we need to learn. And that's why they're here. You'll have that gift forever.

Her writing was her only escape, her only means of survival. It was a respite from a cruel world, despite seemingly comfortable surroundings.

Never lose hope, and if you can, find the courage to love again.

Love meant something to her, she dreamt of it, thought of it, wrote of it. It was the one thing in life that had eluded her completely.