[Dawn] is always such a forgiving time. When that first cold, bright streak comes over the water, it's as if all our sins were pardoned; as if the sky leaned over the earth and kissed it and gave it absolution.

Today I stood taller from walking among the trees.

The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.

The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own.

After all, the supreme virtue in all art is soul, perhaps it is the only thing which gives art a right to be.

Love itself draws on a woman nearly all the bad luck in the world

Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky.