What Seems New Is Only New To

Endurance Of Inescapable Sorrow Is Something Which Has To Be Learned Alone. And Only To Endure Is Not Enough. Endurance Can Be A Harsh And Bitter Root In One's Life, Bearing Poisonous And Gloomy Fruit, Destroying Other Lives. Endurance Is Only The Beginning. There Must Be Acceptance And The Knowledge That Sorrow Fully Accepted Brings Its Own Gifts. For There Is An Alchemy In Sorrow. It Can Be Transmuted Into Wisdom, Which, If It Does Not Bring Joy, Can Yet Bring Happiness.

An Intelligent, Energetic, Educated Woman Cannot Be Kept In Four Walls - Even Satin-lined, Diamond-studded Walls - Without Discovering Sooner Or Later That They Are Still A Prison Cell.

No Writer, I Believe, Should Attempt A Novel Before He Is Thirty, And Not Then Unless He Has Been Hopelessly And Helplessly Involved In Life. For The Writer Who Goes Out To Find Material For A Novel, As A Fishermen Goes Out To Sea To Fish, Will Certainly Not Write A Good Novel. Life Has To Be Lived Thoughtlessly, Unconsciously, At Full Tilt And For No Purpose Except Its Own Sake Before It Becomes, Eventually, Good Material For A Novel.

I Do Not Believe In A Child World. It Is A Fantasy World. I Believe The Child Should Be Taught From The Very First That The Whole World Is His World, That Adult And Child Share One World, That All Generations Are Needed.

I Am Mentally Bifocal.