Money was their God; work their religion.

we know by the odour that occasionally we are visited by skunks, which are not poetic but very beautiful.

I do not know why it is the fate of the world always to want something different from what life gives them.

My publishers will make any kind of a beautiful book I design and send in to them, but ... For poetry they have less use than a rooster would have for skates.

The Cardinal ... It was as if a pulsing heart of flame passed by when he came winging through the orchard.

The world is full of happy people but no one ever hears of them. You have to fight and make a scandal to get in the papers. No one knows about all the happy people.

Nature can be trusted to work her own miracle in the heart of any man whose daily task keeps him alone among her sights, sounds and silences.