After all, catching something is purely a by-product of our fishing. It is the act of fishing that wipes away all grief, lightens all worry, dissolves fear and anxiety.

The creative instincts, the love force must be nourished with every beat of our hearts until they overbalance the destructive instincts.

I suppose I am a sparrow, a stay-at-home bird.

My own recipe for world peace is a bit of land for everyone.

Well, any love makes us vulnerable. Whatever we love will give the gift of pain somewhere along the road. But who would live sealed in spiritual cellophane just to keep from ever being hurt? There are a few people like that. I'm sorry for them. I think they are as good as dead.

nothing decorates a home like books. There they are, waiting to decorate the mind, too!

Happiness of heart can never be measured out and bundled up, it's intangible. We keep running after it, grasping for it, and the heat of our running so seldom brings it closer. But now and then there may be a moment. We look at something and know it is good and beautiful. Those moments are happiness.