Only after a while did it occur to me (in spite of the chilly silence which surrounded me) that my story was not of the tragic sort, but rather of the comic variety. At any rate that afforded me some comfort.

It was futile to attack with reason the stout wall of irrational feelings that, as is known, is the stuff of which the female mind is made.

God has been kind to dogs in no putting a sense of beauty into their heads.

In the mind of a woman for whom no place is home the thought of an end to all flight is unbearable.

Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding.

The source of anxiety lies in the future. If you can keep the future out of mind, you can forget your worries.

Nothing requires a greater effort of thought than arguments to justify the rule of non-thought.