She was saving up feelings for some man she had never seen.

Among the thousand white persons, I am a dark rock surged upon, and overswept.

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

Once you wake up thought in a man, you can never put it to sleep again.

It seems like the first law of Nature is that everybody likes to receive things, but nobody likes to feel grateful.

I had hundreds of books under my skin already. Not selected reading, all of it. Some of it could be called trashy. I had been through Nick Carter, Horatio Alger, Bertha M. Clay and the whole slew of dime novelists in addition to some really constructive reading. I do not regret the trash. It has harmed me in no way. It was a help, because acquiring the reading habit early is the important thing. Taste and natural development will take care of the rest later on.

When God had made The Man, he made him out of stuff that sung all the time and glittered all over. Some angels got jealous and chopped him into millions of pieces, but still he glittered and hummed. So they beat him down to nothing but sparks but each little spark had a shine and a song. So they covered each one over with mud. And the lonesomeness in the sparks make them hunt for one another.