Yet there were times when he did love her with all the kindness she demanded, and how was she to know what were those times? Alone she raged against his cheerfulness and put herself at the mercy of her own love and longed to be free of it because it made her less than he and dependent on him. But how could she be free of chains she had put upon herself? Her soul was all tempest. The dreams she had once had of her life were dead. She was in prison in the house. And yet who was her jailer except herself?

Self-expression must pass into communication for its fulfillment.

None but the ignorant can be bored by life. To the lovers of learning, life is pure adventure shared with adventurers.

If our American way of life fails the child, it fails us all.

As for inhibitions, I've spent a lifetime developing them, and I don't intend to lose them.

No daughter is ever her mother's darling. That spot is always reserved for the son.

In this unbelievable universe in which we live, there are no absolutes. Even parallel lines, reaching into infinity, meet somewhere yonder.