My dear, dear girl [. . .] we can't turn back the days that have gone. We can't turn life back to the hours when our lungs were sound, our blood hot, our bodies young. We are a flash of fire--a brain, a heart, a spirit. And we are three-cents-worth of lime and iron--which we cannot get back.

It seems to me that in the orbit of our world you are the North Pole, I the South--so much in balance, in agreement--and yet... the whole world lies between.

Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly, but keep on going. Don’t freeze up.

Is this not the true romantic feeling; not to desire to escape life, but to prevent life from escaping you.

There’s no sight on earth more appealing than that of a woman making dinner for someone she loves.

A young man is so strong, so mad, so certain, and so lost. He has everything and he is able to use nothing.

All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.