Talent is like a faucet, while it is open, one must write.
Until the day of his death no man can be sure of his courage.
It bothered me that whatever was waiting wasn't waiting for me
Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.
Tragedy is restful: and the reason is that hope, that foul, deceitful thing, has no part in it.
We poison our lives with fear of burglary and shipwreck, and, ask anyone, the house is never burgled, and the ship never goes down.