A creative writer can do his best only with what lies within the range and character of his deepest sympathies.

The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death.

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

Art, it seems to me, should simplify finding what conventions of form and what detail one can do without and yet preserve the spirit of the whole - so that all that one has suppressed and cut away is there to the reader's consciousness as much as if it were in type on the page.

I was thinking, as I watched her, how little it mattered –about her teeth for instance. I know so many women who have kept all the things she had lost, *but whose inner glow has faded*. Whatever else was gone, Antonia had not lost the fire of life.

Success is less interesting than struggle. There is great pleasure in the effort.

Oh, the Germans classify, but the French arrange.