… in the ordinary course of a healthy labour, the mouth of the uterus opens by some secret agency; or at least without any apparent force.

… but she never did cry. She was too hurt to cry.… You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

… Thou art a dreaming thing; A fever of thyself—think of the Earth; What bliss even in hope is there for thee? What haven? every creature hath its home; Every sole man hath days of joy and pain, Wheth...

… May there not be superior beings amused with any graceful, though instinctive attitude my mind may fall into, as I am entertained with the alertness of a Stoat or the anxiety of a Deer? Though a qua...

…young minds cannot be driven…

…you'll be spared an awful lot of trouble if you die young.

…you almost believe that you will never come to the end of a roll of tape; and when you do, there is a feeling, nearly, though very briefly, of shock and grief.

…wisely mingled poetry and prose.

…while the outside world was full of danger, I knew my interior. I was certain that I could oust an intruder there.

…when the person beside you is making you alert and keen and the idea of being with anyone else is not imaginable…

…when the dying sun bled the blue sky orange.

…what splendid dreams young people build upon a word, and how bitter is the pain when the bright bubbles burst.

…what matters is not complexity or decoration but rather intelligibility, grace, and the fact that the sentence should strike us as the perfect vehicle for expressing what it aims to express…

…what I told them was 'a poem,' a thing made by a maker, a work of art, part history of long ago, part invention.

…we’re all part of nature. Some day the world will recognize this…

…we're twins, and so we love each other more than other people…

…we saw a lion take down a gazelle – I mean at close quarters. It quite took my breath away. It was as if something happened to the gazelle at the moment of capture, something awe-inspiringly terrible...

…we here are unbelievers only out of carelessness, because we don’t have time: first, we’re too beset with business, and second, God gave us too little time, he only allotted twenty-four hours to a da...

…we can not love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.

…we all lie to ourselves; we tell our own selves more lies than we ever do other people.