Writers And Painters Have A Medium That

Nothing Is Ever Finished And Done With In This World. You May Think A Seed Was Finished And Done With When It Falls Like A Dead Thing Into The Earth; But When It Puts Forth Leaves And Flowers Next Spring You See Your Mistake.

I've Never Been One For Religion, But Yet I've Never Been What Ye Could Call An Unbeliever. What I Say Is, Nothin' Don't Seem Impossible Once You've Clapped Eyes On A Whale.

Jean Was Visited By One Of Her Rare Moments Of Happiness, One Of Those Moments When The Goodness Of God Was So Real To Her That It Was Like Taste And Scent; The Rough Strong Taste Of Honey In The Comb And The Scent Of Water. Her Thoughts Of God Had A Homeliness That At Times Seemed Shocking, In Spite Of Their Power, Which Could Rescue Her From Terror Or Evil With An Ease That Astonished Her.

Being Ill Makes You Feel What Well People Call Sentimental, But What You Feel Is Nonetheless Genuine Whatever They Call It.

Our Home, Our Special Country, Is For All Of Us The Place Where We Find Liberation; A Very Difficult Word ... That Tries To Describe Something That Can't Be Described But Is The Only Thing Worth Having.