. . . this rage - I have never forgotten it - contained every anger, every revolt I had ever felt in my life - the way I felt when I saw the black dog hunted, the way I felt when I watched old Uncle Henry taken away to the almshouse, the way I felt whenever I had seen people or animals hurt for the pleasure or profit of others.

Mediocrity would always win by force of numbers, but it would win only more mediocrity.

Dignity is an anachronism.

There is no support so strong as the strength that enables one to stand alone.

No matter how vital experience might be while you lived it, no sooner was it ended and dead than it became as lifeless as the piles of dry dust in a school history book.

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

She must face her grief where the struggle is always hardest-in the place where each trivial object is attended by pleasant memories.