...America has enjoyed the doubtful blessing of a single-track mind. We are able to accommodate, at a time, only one national hero; and we demand that that hero shall be uniform and invincible. As a literate people we are preoccupied, neither with the race nor the individual, but with the type. Yesterday, we romanticized the "tough guy;" today, we are romanticizing the underprivileged, tough or tender; tomorrow, we shall begin to romanticize the pure primitive.

Doesn't all experience crumble in the end to mere literary material?

There is in every human being, I think, a native country of the mind, where, protected by inaccessible barriers, the sensitive dream life may exist safely.

And where was happiness if it sprung not from the soil? Where contentment if it dwelt not near to Nature?

Do you know there is always a barrier between me and any man or woman who does not like dogs?

A tragic irony of life is that we so often achieve success or financial independence after the chief reason for which we sought it has passed away.

Energy had fastened upon her like a disease.