Very few of the people who accentuate the futility of life remark the futility of themselves. Perhaps they think that in proclaiming the evil of living they somehow salvage their own worth from the ruin - but they don't, even you and I.

It is not life that's complicated, it's the struggle to guide and control life.

Laughter is easier minute by minute, spilled with prodigality, tipped out at a cheerful word.

Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.

It is not necessarily poverty of spirit that makes a woman surround herself with life - it can be a superabundance of interest.

And after reading Thoreau I felt how much I have lost by leaving nature out of my life.

She was overstrained with grief and loneliness: almost any shoulder would have done as well.