Only solitary men know the full joys of frienship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.

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

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.

Old men are like that, you know. It makes them feel important to think they are in love with somebody.

If you don't keep and guard and mature your force, and above all, have time and quiet to perfect your work, you will be writing things not much better than you did five years ago.

life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.

This land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks things to pieces.