Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin.

Men travel faster now, but I do not know if they go to better things.

Your vivid, exciting companionship in the office must not be your audience, you must find your own quiet center of life, and write from that to the world.

I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived.

Youth, art, love, dreams, true-heartedness - why must they go out of the summer world into darkness?

I've seen it before. There are women who spread ruin through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too ful of life and love. They can't help it. Poeple come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter.

Hunger is a powerful incentive to introspection.