Lightning never strikes twice in the same place.
A little work, a little sleep, a little love and it's all over.
It's money that brings trouble. It always has and it always will.
Death was a beginning and not an end; it was the morning of the spirit. Tired bodies lay down to sleep and their souls wakened to the morning, rested; the first fruits of them that slept.
Suspicion is like the rain. It falls on the just and on the unjust.
Some day some one will write a book about that frantic search of the creative worker for silence and freedom, not only from interruption but from the fear of interruption.