To Eat Bread Without Hope Is Still

Write A Novel If You Must, But Think Of Money As An Unlikely Accident. Get Your Reward Out Of Writing It, And Try To Be Content With That.

Destructiveness Comes Only When Life Isn't Lived. People Who Can Live Their Lives Don't Destroy Themselves.

Yet There Were Times When He Did Love Her With All The Kindness She Demanded, And How Was She To Know What Were Those Times? Alone She Raged Against His Cheerfulness And Put Herself At The Mercy Of Her Own Love And Longed To Be Free Of It Because It Made Her Less Than He And Dependent On Him. But How Could She Be Free Of Chains She Had Put Upon Herself? Her Soul Was All Tempest. The Dreams She Had Once Had Of Her Life Were Dead. She Was In Prison In The House. And Yet Who Was Her Jailer Except Herself?

Fatalism Is A False Premise. What Will Be Is Not Necessarily What Must Be.

There's Two Kinds Of Folk In The World, Just Like There's Two Kinds Of Life In A Seed. Something Sends One Kind Up To Hunt Its Food In The Light And Air, And Sends The Other Kind Down Into The Earth To Make The Roots.