Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.

I lived to write, and wrote to live.

Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.

Long on the wave reflected lustres of play.

Kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, As summer clouds flash forth electric fire.

Women have the understanding of the heart, which is better than that of the head.

Man to the last is but a froward child; So eager for the future, come what may, And to the present so insensible.

Gentle to others, to himself severe.

To know her was to love her.

Every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle thoughts.

When a new book is published, read an old one.

i took it off.i did not want to carry it with me anymore.

My first publication was a haiku in a children's magazine when I was 9 years old. I received one dollar for it! I gave the check to my dad for Christmas, and he framed it and hung it over his desk.

I get a lot of cracks about my hair, mostly from men who don't have any.

Yet love enters my blood like an I.V., dripping in its little white moments.

There are some conditions where you have to trust your intuition.

These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves.

I would guess that about 75% of my stories are like that - personal experiences that I probably over-milk.

Work hard to make things easier.

They say you have to be good to be lucky, but I think you have to be lucky to be good.

Ownership is the most intimate relationship that one can have to objects. Not that they come alive in him; it is he who lives in them.