Blessed are the pure in heart for they have so many more things to talk about.

Only the fact that we are unaware how well our nearest know us enables us to live with them. Love is the most impregnable refuge of self-esteem, and we hate the eye that reaches to our nakedness. Edith Wharton ~ The Touchstone

What's the use of making mysteries? It only makes people want to nose 'em out.

In every heart there should be one grief that is like a well in the desert.

It must be less wicked to love the wrong person than not to love anybody at all.

I am secretly afraid of animals.... I think it is because of the usness in their eyes, with the underlying not-usness which beliesit, and is so tragic a reminder of the lost age when we human beings branched off and left them: left them to eternal inarticulateness and slavery. Why? their eyes seem to ask us.

The moment my eyes fell on him, I was content.