It’s a sad day when you find out that it’s not accident or time or fortune, but just yourself that kept things from you.

I like people who refuse to speak until they are ready to speak.

I’m too old to recover, too narrow to forgive myself.

Writers are interesting people, but often mean and petty.

People change and forget to tell each other.

I cannot and will not cut my conscience to fit this year’s fashions.

Nobody outside of a baby carriage or a judge’s chamber believes in an unprejudiced point of view.