Words Began Fights And Words Ended Them.

A Woman Has Got To Love A Bad Man Once Or Twice In Her Life, To Be Thankful For A Good One.

Madness Is Only A Variety Of Mental Nonconformity And We Are All Individualists Here.

No Case Of Libel By A Negro Against A White Would Even Reach A Southern Court.

But To Make The Intangible Tangible, To Pick The Emotion Out Of The Air And Make It True For Others, Is Both The Blessing And The Curse Of The Writer, For The Thing Between Book Covers Is Never As Beautiful As The Thing He Imagined.

Who Owns Cross Creek? The Red-birds, I Think, More Than I, For They Will Have Their Nests Even In The Face Of Delinquent Mortgages..it Seems To Me That The Earth May Be Borrowed, But Not Bought. It May Be Used, But Not Owned. It Gives Itself In Response To Love And Tending, Offers Its Sesonal Flowering And Fruiting. But We Are Tenants And Not Possessors, Lovers, And Not Masters. Cross Creek Belongs To The Wind And The Rain, To The Sun And The Seasons, To The Cosmic Secrecy Of Seed, And Beyond All, To Time..."