Art and religion (they are the same thing, in the end, of course) have given man the only happiness he has ever had.

A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of things more than the things themselves.

Many people seem to think that art is a luxury to be imported and tacked on to life. Art springs out of the very stuff that life is made of. Most of our young authors start to write a story and make a few observations from nature to add local color. The results are invariably false and hollow. Art must spring out of the fullness and richness of life.

She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last.

No nation has ever produced great art that has not made a high art of cookery, because art appeals primarily to the senses.

I wondered if the life that was right for one was ever right for two!

There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.