But Anne with her elbows on the window sill, her soft cheek laid against her clasped hands, and her eyes filled with visions, looked out unheedingly across city roof and spire to that glorious dome of sunset sky and wove her dreams of a possible future from the golden tissue of youth's own optimism. All the Beyond was hers, with its possibilities lurking rosily in the oncoming years — each year a rose of promise to be woven into an immortal chaplet.

It only seems as if you are doing something when you're worrying.

Anyone who has gumption knows what it is, and anyone who hasn’t can never know what it is. So there is no need of defining it.

I love bright red drinks, don’t you? They taste twice as good as any other color.

There are so many unpleasant things in the world already that there is no use in imagining any more.

You're never safe from being surprised until you're dead.

Don't try to write anything you can't feel - it will be a failure - 'echoes nothing worth