If [the writer] achieves anything noble, anything enduring, it must be by giving himself absolutely to his material. And this gift of sympathy is his great gift; is the fine thing in him that alone can make his work fine.

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.

I don't want anyone reading my writing to think about style. I just want them to be in the story.

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

That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.

It takes a great deal of experience to become natural.

Only a Woman, divine, could know all that a woman can suffer.