You mind Ralph,” she called back to Bubber. “Mind the gnats don’t sit on his eyelids.
She did not know why she was sad, but because of this peculiar sadness, she began to realize she ought to leave the town.
There was none of the quiet insolence about this man.
Us going to have a cup of coffee. Then maybe it all won’t seem so bad.
It wasn’t like she was lonely and in fact – she had understood it all in every way except with her brain. Now she knew that she knew.
Because of the insolence of all the white race he was afraid to lose his dignity in friendliness.
A person’s got to fight for every single thing they get,′ she said slowly. ‘And I’ve noticed a lot of times that the farther down a kid comes in the family the better the kid really is.
The writer is by nature a dreamer – a conscious dreamer.
We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.
Love is a joint experience between two persons – but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved.
She wished there was some place where she could go to hum it out loud. Some kind of music was too private to sing in a house cram fall of people. It was funny, too, how lonesome a person could be in a crowded house.
I think we look for the differences in people because it makes us less lonely.
We are homesick most for the places we have never known.
Next to music beer was best.
The mind is like a richly woven tapestry in which the colors are distilled from the experiences of the senses, and the design drawn from the convolutions of the intellect.
How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind?
Falling in love is the easiest thing in the world. It’s standing in love that matters.
The seed of the idea is developed by both labor and the unconscious, and the struggle that goes on between them.
I live with the people I create and it has always made my essential loneliness less keen.
Writing, for me, is a search for God.