The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.

Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles but those that were fought and won behind your forehead.

There is only one thing that makes any one athlete better than another, his heart. We all put our underwear on feet first, so we are all human.

Places remember events.

And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?

The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you.

She would follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he was her all in all, the only man in all the world for her for love was the master guide. Come what might she would be wild, untrammelled, free.