There are only two kinds of people in the world that really count. One kind's wheat and the other kind's emeralds.

It's terrible to realize that you don't learn how to live until you're ready to die; and, then it's too late.

I think that in order to write really well and convincingly, one must be somewhat poisoned by emotion.

To be alive is a fine thing. It is the finest thing in the world, though hazardous. It is a unique thing. It happens only once in a lifetime. To be alive, to know consciously that you are alive, and to relish that knowledge -- this is a kind of magic. Or it may be a kind of madness, exhilarating but harmless.

I sometimes wonder ... if the land is not destroying the people who inhabit it as the people who inhabit it are destroying the land. A magic continent, a Peculiar Treasure, stuffed with riches, millions in it are starving in the midst of plenty.

Christmas isn't a season. It's a feeling.

About mistakes it's funny. You got to make your own; and not only that, if you try to keep people from making theirs they get mad.