You cannot write on the heart of another what you do not feel yourself.

In the economy of nature nothing is ever lost. I cannot belive that the soul of man shall prove the one exception

I write as the birds sing, because I must, and usually from the same source of inspiration.

a trouble shared is a trouble half endured.

Sometimes it seems to me that the more we get hurt in this world the decenter it makes us.

There was an exquisitely beautiful conception in my brain when I did this piece of work all alone from midnight until morning after the experience of a wonderful day. But I was not able to make the consummation anywhere nearly as beautiful as the inspiration. That, I suppose, is the cry of every heart struggling for self-expression.

Money was their God; work their religion.