In childhood, we press our nose to the pane, looking out. In memories of childhood, we press our nose to the pane, looking in.

On the sixth day, God created the artist, realizing no doubt that He had far from exhausted the uses of color.

There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child - and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own.

Either way, things are a lot better - either a lot better than they were or a lot better than they're going to be.

Doing one fool thing after another is not so terrible when you consider the human proclivity to do several fool things at once.

No one complains of being a prisoner of love who has ever been a prisoner of loneliness.

It is when there is nothing you can say or do to help that a friend needs you the most.