Trees and plants always look like the people they live with, somehow.

There is something about poverty that smells like death.

She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman.

Friendship is a mysterious and ocean-bottom thing. Who can know the outer ranges of it? Perhaps no human being has ever explored its limits.

Perhaps love is a compelling necessity imposed on man by God that has something to do with suffering

Mystery is the essence of divinity

I made up my mind to keep my feelings to myself since they did not seem to matter to anyone else but me.