She sat in the sunshine watching the life on the street and guarding within herself, her own mystery of life.

Look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory.

Oh, magic hour, when a child first knows she can read printed words.

The world was hers for the reading.

From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood.

She had become accustomed to being lonely. She was used to walking alone and to being considered 'different.' She did not suffer too much.

Brooklyn was a dream. All the things that happened there just couldn't happen. It was all dream stuff. Or was it all real and true and was it that she, Francie, was the dreamer?

It's come at last", she thought, "the time when you can no longer stand between your children and heartache.

They learned no compassion from their own anguish. Thus their suffering was wasted.

But she needs me more than she needs him and I guess being needed is almost as good as being loved. Maybe better.

Everything, decided Francie after that first lecture, was vibrant with life and there was no death in chemistry. She was puzzled as to why learned people didn't adopt chemistry as a religion.

Looking for Truth is not some kind of spazzy free-for-all, not even during this, the great age of the spazzy free-for-all.

SHUT UP!...PADLE!

There seems to be three ways for a nation to acquire wealth: the first is by war...this is robbery; the second by commerce, which is generally cheating; the third by agriculture, the only honest way.

Really advanced civilization is based on advances in energy.

We can't replace Gary Speed - where do you get an experienced player like him with a left foot and a head?

Good programmers know what to write. Great ones know what to rewrite (and reuse)

Football is very masculine and, to me, a metaphor for war.

My limitations make space for the gifts of other people. Without the grace of our limitations we would be isolated, dry, and insufferable creatures indeed.

It would be nice to not have to prove myself, and for people to know that I'm good and can play a role. Whatever role that is that lets people know that I can play the next role is what I want to do.