All the spring may be hidden in the single bud, and the low ground nest of the lark may hold the joy that is to herald the feet of many rose-red dawns.

Whenever people agree with me I always feel I must be wrong.

The things one feels absolutely certain about are never true. That is the fatality of faith, and the lesson of romance.

He is some brainless, beautiful creature, who should always be here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in the summer when we want something to chill our intelligence.

America has never quite forgiven Europe for having been discovered somewhat earlier in history than itself.

I don’t write this letter to put bitterness into your heart, but to pluck it out of mine. For my own sake I must forgive you.

Nature is a wet place where large numbers of ducks fly overhead uncooked.