Sacrificers are not the ones to pity. The ones to pity are those they sacrifice.

Some ideas, like dandelions in lawns, strike tenaciously: you may pull off the top but the root remains, drives down suckers and may even sprout again.

Forgiveness should be an act, but this is a state with him.

But surely love wouldn't get so much talked about if there were not something in it?

Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies.

When I read a story, I relive the moment from which it sprang. A scene burned itself into me, a building magnetized me, a mood orseason of Nature's penetrated me, history suddenly appeared to me in some tiny act, or a face had begun to haunt me before I glanced at it.

What's the matter with this country is the matter with the lot of us individually - our sense of personality is a sense of outrage.