I've always thought that the most perfect fate which could befall any woman would be to be born a rich widow.

Gratitude is a humble emotion. It expresses itself in a thousand ways, from a sincere thank you to friend or stranger, to the mute, up-reaching acknowledgment to God--not for the gifts of this day only, but for the day itself not for what we believe will be ours in the future, but for the bounty of the past.

You cannot contribute anything to the ideal condition of mind and heart known as Brotherhood, however much you preach, posture, or agree, unless you live it.

We may differ widely in environments, education, learning, knowledge, or lack of it, and in our personalities, our likes and dislikes. But if we set ourselves the task, we'll find a meeting place somehow and somewhere.

Sometimes there is a greater lack of communication in facile talking than in silence.

Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.

There's nothing like fishing to pass the time and to incline toward a sort of magnificent stupidity in which nothing matters but tackle, bait, sunlight and the strike.

The shadow of fear and uncertainty lies over most of us for us the future seems far from being as clear and open as we believed it would be.

Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations.

Character builds slowly, but it can be torn down with incredible swiftness.