Please don't think me negligent or rude. I am both, in effect, of course, but please don't think me either.

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither listen nor speak.

What should I be but just what I am?

Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And made us believe it-that to take a step forward was necessarily, was always A good idea?

[on going to Sunday school:] It looks like rain, and I hope it will rain cats and dogs and hammers and pitchforks and silver sugar spoons and hay ricks and paper-covered novels and picture frames and rag carpets and toothpicks and skating rinks and birds of paradise and roof gardens and burdocks and French grammars before Sunday school time.

Euclid Alone Has Looked on Beauty Bare.

But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.