There is this thing called life. We live it, not as we intend or wish, but as we are driven on by forces outside and inside ourselves.

It may be life is only worthwhile at moments. Perhaps that is all we ought to expect.

Only the few know the sweetness of the twisted apples.

There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood.

Most people are afraid to trust their imaginations and the artist is not.

The machines men are so intent on making have carried them very far from the old sweet things.

People keep on getting married. Evidently hope is eternal in the human breast.