Everybody works . . . . That's what life is. Work and a little play and a lot of prayer.

Think hard before you begin, then enter the work.

If two people love the same thing, she reasoned, then they must love each other, at least a little, even if they never say it.

He and I had a bridge that no one else traveled that made us artistic lovers, passionate without a touch of the flesh. He made me thrive, and valuing that, I could do nothing that would endanger it.

God taking from us and loving us at the same time by providing comforters was a kind of spiritual equanimity. It seemed a phenomenon of life how a death insinuates us into the debt of those who stand by us in trouble and console us.

Everybody works . . . . That's what life is. Work and a little play and a lot of prayer.

What the world calls failure, I call learning.