there was not a tree on the place, only the horrible prickly pear bushes thrusting out their distorted arms as if exulting in their own nakedness.

People have a way of thinking that everything is finished when the very best of all may yet be in store.

Death is the opening-and the closing-of a Door.

What we once fling away never comes again to us.

If you didn't sit with your head in the clouds so perpetually you wouldn't get so many shocks.

What the world, social and political, concrete and mental, really needs is not new things, but the old things made new.

I love humility in a woman. It's so rare. With man, of course, it is practically extinct.