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

Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can't stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.

An artist's saddest secrets are those that have to do with his artistry.

Happy people do a great deal for their friends.

Our tree became the talking tree of the fairy tale; legends and stories nestled like birds in its branches.

Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what's sensible and what's foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.

Oh, that's the beauty of the rose, that it blossoms and dies.