I'm not a bit changed - not really. I'm only just pruned down and branched out. The real me - back here - is just the same.

I'm afraid to speak or move for fear that all this wonderful beauty will just vanish... like a broken silence.

The world looks like something God had just imaged for his own pleasure, doesn't it?

Because when you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worth while.

When I make up my mind to do a thing it stays made up.

If you can sit in silence with a person for half an hour and yet be entirely comfortable, you and that person can be friends. If you cannot, friends you'll never be and you need not waste time in trying.

People who haven’t red hair don’t know what trouble is.