I believe in the immortality of the soul because I have within me immortal longings.

We betray ourselves into smallness when we think the little choices of each day are trivial.

Rebuffed, but always persevering; self-reproached, but ever regaining faith; undaunted, tenacious, the heart of man labors toward immeasurably distant goals.

I don't want to live in a hand -me -down world of others' experiences. I want to write about me, my discoveries, my fears, my feelings, about me.

Through my handicaps, I have found my self, my work, my God.

It is with a kind of fear that I begin to write the history of my life.

When it seems that our sorrow is too great to be borne, let us think of the great family of the heavy-hearted into which our grief has given us entrance. And inevitably, we will feel about us their arms, their sympathy and their understanding.