Take some wood and canvas and nails and things. Build yourself a theater, a stage, light it, learn about it. When you've done that you will probably know how to write a play.

There is no present or future-only the past, happening over and over again-now.

We fought so long against small things that we became small ourselves.

What's the use coming home to get the blues over what can't be helped.

We need above all to learn again to believe in the possibility of nobility of spirit in ourselves.

God gave us mouths that close and ears that don't... that should tell us something.

Suppose I was to tell you that it's just beauty that's calling me, the beauty of the far off and unknown, the mystery and spell which lures me, the need of freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of wandering on and on----in quest of the secret which is hidden over there----beyond the horizon?