It was enough just to sit there without words.
I was in love with the whole world and all that lived in its rainy arms.
Columbus only discovered that he was in some new place. He didn't discover America.
Love won't be tampered with, love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other.
I got well by talking. Death could not get a word in edgewise, grew discouraged, and traveled on.
Here I am, where I ought to be. A writer must have a place where he or she feels this, a place to love and be irritated with.
Love must not touch the marrow of the soul. Our affections must be breakable chains that we can cast them off or tighten them.
You know, some people fall right through the hole in their lives. It's invisible, but they come to it after time, never knowing where.
They were so strong in their beliefs that there came a time when it hardly mattered what exactly those beliefs were they all fused into a single stubbornness.
They were so strong in their beliefs that there came a time when it hardly mattered what exactly those beliefs were; they all fused into a single stubbornness.