The Tax Collector's letters are invariably mimeographed, and all they say is that you still haven't paid him.

You must remember always to give, of everything you have. You must give foolishly even. You must be extravagant. You must give to all who come into your life. Then nothing and no one shall have power to cheat you of anything, for if you give to a thief, he cannot steal from you, and he himself is then no longer a thief. And the more you give, the more you will have to give.

My birthplace was California, but I couldn't forget Armenia, so what is one's country? Is it land of the earth, in a specific place? Rivers there? Lakes? The sky there? The way the moon comes up there? And the sun? Is one's country the trees, the vineyards, the grass, the birds, the rocks, the hills and summer and winter? Is it the animal rhythm of the living there? The huts and houses, the streets of cities, the tables and chairs, and the drinking of tea and talking? Is it the peach ripening in summer heat on the bough? Is it the dead in the earth there?

Every man in the world is better than someone else and not as good someone else.

Doctors don't know everything really. They understand matter, not spirit. And you and I live in the spirit.

Sometimes the most intelligent thing is not to do anything, certainly nothing loaded with the imbecility of emotionality.

All I can do is write my stories for mankind, and rest easy.