Some days are happy days - of themselves, as if for their own sakes. They seem to be enjoying themselves, regardless of what use may be made of them.

Chicago is many things to many people, and to me, it is a place where you can write.

Hurts of childhood live on; in one form or other they are there to the end.

Defeat furnishes good material to the poets and the artists, but none of us care to have the glory of the conquered apply to us.

I go about in the world - free, busy, happy. Among people, I have no time to think of myself.

Some days are happy days - of themselves, as if for their own sakes. They seem to be enjoying themselves, regardless of what use may be made of them.

Strength diminishes when it seems we are spending it in vain.