Happiness Is Something That Comes Into Our

Making The Best Of Things Is A Damn Poor Way Of Dealing With Them. My Life Has Been A Series Of Escapes From That Quicksand.

I Somehow Always Have This Idea That As Soon As I Can Get Through This Work That's Piled Up Ahead Of Me, I'll Really Write A Beautiful Thing. But I Never Do. I Always Have The Idea That Someday, Somehow, I'll Be Living A Beautiful Life.

No One In A Group Of Three Is The Same Person He (she, It) Is In A Group Of Two. No More Than He Is The Same In A Group Of Two As He Is Alone.

The Prairies Were Dust. Day After Day, Summer After Summer, The Scorching Winds Blew The Dust And The Sun Was Brassy In A Yellow Sky. Crop After Crop Failed. Again And Again The Barren Land Must Be Mortgaged For Taxes And Food And Next Year's Seed. The Agony Of Hope Ended When There Was Not Harvest And No More Credit, No Money To Pay Interest And Taxes; The Banker Took The Land. Then The Bank Failed.

The First Twenty Years Of My Life Were Wasted. I Didn't Fit My Environment, And I Didn't Know Any Other.