Are you happy here?" I said at last. He considered this for a moment. "Not particularly," he said. "But you're not very happy where you are, either.

Anything is grand if it's done on a large enough scale.

Who cares? If he is good to you? None of us ever find enough kindness in the world, do we?

Even if it meant that she had failed, she was glad. And if what she'd wanted had been impossible from the start, still there was a certain lonely comfort in the fact that she'd known it was impossible and had gone ahead and done it anyway.

There's a big anti-intellectual strain in the American south, and there always has been. We're not big on thought.

One likes to think there's something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I've learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool.

...with a grief no less sharp for not being intimate with its object.