It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home.

we can surmount the anger we feel. To find oneself like a young tree inside a tomb is to discover the power to crack the tomb and grow up to any height.

The writer, unlike his non-writing adult friend, has no predisposed outlook; he seldom observes deliberately. He sees what he didnot intend to see; he remembers what does not seem wholly possible. Inattentive learner in the schoolroom of life, he keeps some faculty free to veer and wander. His is the roving eye.

Autumn arrives in the early morning.

Nothing can happen nowhere. The locale of the happening always colours the happening, and often, to a degree, shapes it.

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.

The paradox of romantic love -- that what one possesses, one can no longer desire -- was at work.