Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.

The lands are lit with all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, and everywhere the purple asters nod and bend and wave and flit.

All nights are sacred nights to make confession and resolve and prayer; all days are sacred days to wake new gladness in the sunny air.

I've always had to force myself to make friends and speak to people. My parents were quiet, and it took me a while to get used to the fact that people talk about their feelings, their problems.

Pity and friendship seek different habitations.

You either have a baby, want a baby, or don't want a baby, but you don't nothing a baby if you're in your 30s or 40s.

As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough – I wrote faster than I would write a letter – two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.