it is really astonishing how few colors are inharmonious when they are profusely massed and have green for a background.

in the city at best one lives the life of others, the life of the shop, the street, the crowd, while in the country one must live one's own life.

Imagine how terrifying it would be if we had to decide the beginnings of things for ourselves: as to what race we should belong, what sex, and all that, instead of placidly coming out of unconsciousness to find it all arranged!

what is life worth if one has nothing to give away? This lack, it seems to me, must be the sharpest pang of poverty.

Nature, when undisturbed, is never monotonous, you know. Even when using green, the most frequent color on her palette, she throws in contrasting tints by way of expression, and you will seldom see two sides of a leaf of the same hue, and the leaf stem frequently gives a good dash of bronze or purple.

it is really astonishing how few colors are inharmonious when they are profusely massed and have green for a background.

Why is it that so many people think that charity consists in giving away merely what they cannot use instead of the article the recipient needs?