Where once stood the steadfast pines, great, beautiful, sweet, my hand touched raw, moist stumps. All about lay broken branches, like the antlers of stricken deer. The fragrant, piled-up sawdust swirled and tumbled about me. An unreasoning resentment flashed through me at the ruthless destruction of the beauty that I love.

Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.

If we spend the time we waste in sighing for the perfect golden fruit in fulfilling the conditions of its growth, happiness will come, must come. It is guaranteed in the very laws of the universe. If it involves some chastening and renunciation, well, the fruit will be all the sweeter for this touch of holiness.

The beginning of my life was simple and much like every other little life. I came, I saw, I conquered, as the first baby in the family always does.

Militarism. . . is the chief bulwark of capitalism. When it is that militarism is undermined, capitalism will fail.

I find that fact and fancy look alike across the years that link the past with the present.

A person who is severely impaired never knows his hidden sources of strength until he is treated like a normal human being and encouraged to shape his own life.