I learned that you should feel when writing, not like Lord Byron on a mountain top, but like child stringing beads in kindergarten, - happy, absorbed and quietly putting one bead on after another.

Since you are like no other being ever created since the beginning of time, you are incomparable.

This is what I learned: that everybody is talented, original and has something important to say.

I will tell you what I have learned myself. For me, a long five or six mile walk helps. And one must go alone and every day.

Work freely and rollickingly as though you were talking to a friend who loves you. Mentally (at least three or four times a day) thumb your nose at all know-it-alls, jeerers, critics, doubters.

When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand. Ideas actually begin to grow within us and come to life.

We are always afraid to start something that we want to make very good, true, and serious.

The tragedy of bold, forthright, industrious people is that they act so continuously without much thinking, that it becomes dry and empty.

Families are great murderers of the creative impulsive, particularly husbands.

No writing is a waste of time – no creative work where the feelings, the imagination, the intelligence must work. With every sentence you write, you have learned something. It has done you good.

Inspiration comes to us slowly and quietly . prime it with a little solitude.

I may not be able to leave behind wealth or splendor, but I will try to leave behind examples and stories of my love and kindness to inspire you to be kind and spread the message of kindness.

All souls are sacred with a spirit and a body.

Ask me again, once we defeat Gaea.

There isn't much that tastes better than praise from those who are wise and capable.

I want find to beauty in the world but to do so requires you to acknowledge and confront the darkness.

Imagine what our planet would look like with an increase in temperature of two degrees or four degrees, given that at 0.8 degrees we already have serious problems in the world.

It would make life much easier if I could have total faith and not question everything all the time, but I can't do it and I won't do it.

She needed him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.

I live to succeed, not to please you or anyone else.

Why allow all the old memories to have supremacy? Make new ones, memories of such luster and beauty that, should the old ones come back, they would be pallid and impotent in comparison.