Cross Creek Belongs To The Wind And

Food Imaginatively And Lovingly Prepared, And Eaten In Good Company, Warms The Being With Something More Than The Mere Intake Of Calories. I Cannot Conceive Of Cooking For Friends Or Family, Under Reasonable Conditions, As Being A Chore.

A Woman Never Forgets The Men She Could Have Had; A Man, The Women He Couldn't

He Who Tries To Forget A Woman, Never Loved Her

Readers Themselves, I Think, Contribute To A Book. They Add Their Own Imaginations, And It Is As Though The Writer Only Gave Them Something To Work On, And They Did The Rest.

We Cannot Live Without The Earth Or Apart From It, And Something Is Shrivelled In A Man's Heart When He Turns Away From It And Concerns Himself Only With The Affairs Of Men