True power is given to the vulnerable.

I am not a greedy person except about flowers and plants, and then I become fanatically greedy.

[In old age] there is a childlike innocence, often, that has nothing to do with the childishness of senility. The moments become precious . . .

The trouble is, old age is not interesting until one gets there. It's a foreign country with an unknown language to the young and even to the middle-aged.

Solitude is one thing and loneliness is another.

It is curious how any making of order makes one feel mentally ordered, ordered inside.

What is there to do when people die - people so dear and rare - but bring them back by remembering?