Sisters are always drying their hair. Locked into rooms, alone, they pose at the mirror, shoulders bare, trying this way and that their hair, or fly importunate down the stair to answer the telephone.

Gardening has compensations out of all proportion to its goals. It is creation in the pure sense.

It's hard / Keeping up with the avant-garde.

Of the small gifts of heaven, / It seems to me a more than equal share / At birth was given / To girls with curly hair.

It is the leisured, I have noticed, who rebel the most at an interruption of routine.

Compromise, if not the spice of life, is its solidity. It is what makes nations great and marriages happy

Oh, princes thrive on caviar, the poor on whey and curds, / And politicians, I infer, must eat their windy words. / It's crusts that feed the virtuous, it's cake that comforts sinners, / But writers live on bread and praise at Literary Dinners.