Love Dies Only When Growth Stops.

Order Is The Shape Upon Which Beauty Depends.

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?

Men Of Action," Whose Minds Are Too Busy With The Day's Work To See Beyond It. They Are Essential Men, We Cannot Do Without Them, And Yet We Must Not Allow All Our Vision To Be Bound By The Limitations Of "men Of Action.

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.

Men Cannot Be Free In A Nation Where Women Are Forbidden Freedom.