I want now to be of today. It is painful to be conscious of two worlds. The Wandering Jew in me seeks forgetfulness.

I have so little mastered the art of tranquil living that wherever I go I trail storm clouds of drama around me.

It is not that I belong to the past, but the past that belongs to me.

The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from little tin cans that had printing all over them.

What we get in steerage is not the refuse, but the sinew and bone of all the nations.

I want now to be of today. It is painful to be conscious of two worlds. The Wandering Jew in me seeks forgetfulness.

One current of continuity runs underneath all the abortive phases of my life. From childhood on I have been obliged to drop anything I was doing to run after any man who seemed to know a little more than I did about God . . . I most want to write about: how a modern woman has sought the face of God-not the name nor the fame but the face [ital] of God-and what adventures came to meet her on this ancient human path.