A book is like a man - clever and dull, brave and cowardly, beautiful and ugly. For every flowering thought there will be a page like a wet and mangy mongrel, and for every looping flight a tap on the wing and a reminder that wax cannot hold the feathers firm too near the sun.

And their greed was for gold or God. They collected souls as they collected jewels.

Sometimes when she was alone, and she knew she was alone, she permitted her mind to play in a garden, and she smiled.

Must the hunger become anger and the anger fury before anything will be done?

No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe

If I was alone I could live so easy. I could go get a job an' work, an' no trouble.

One can't be happy as I have been for very long. There's a law against it. I have worked hard and enjoyed my work and it is the punishment of man to hate his work. Sooner or later I will have work that I hate.