Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose. It is a seeking that he who wishes may know the cosmic secrets of the world and they that dwell therein.

She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her. Then she went inside there to see what it was. It was her image of Jody tumbled down and shattered. But looking at it she saw that it never was the flesh and blood figure of her dreams. Just something she had grabbed up to drape her dreams over.

Someone is always at my elbow reminding me that I am the granddaughter of slaves. It fails to register depression with me.

It was a weak spot in any nation to have a large body of disaffected people within its confusion.

I love myself when I am laughing. . . and then again when I am looking mean and impressive.

There is nothing to make you like other human beings so much as doing things for them.

But any man who walks in the way of power and property is bound to meet hate.