Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. . . . Read it a hundred times; it will forever keep its freshness as a metal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went.

Tolerance is the uncomfortable feeling that in the end the other could be right.

That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with inner, weather.

The chief reason for going to school is to get the impression fixed for life that there is a book side for everything.

A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age.

Life must be kept up at a great rate in order to absorb any considerable amount of learning.

Love has earth to which she clings.