The main cause of my difficulties stemmed from the tragedy of my daughter's unsound birth and my inability to face my feelings.

Trying to make order out of my life was like trying to pick up a jellyfish.

Throughout my career, I was to be cast as a frontier girl, an aristocrat, an Arabian, a Eurasian, a Polynesian, and a Chinese.

I suppose life is a little like that, isn't it, a message in a bottle pitched out to sea, to be carried by the winds and the tides, washing up on the beaches we could never imagine.

When I met Jack Kennedy, he was a serious young man with a dream. He was not a womanizer, not as I understood the term.

In the months leading up to World War II, there was a tendency among many Americans to talk absently about the trouble in Europe. Nothing that happened an ocean away seemed very threatening.

When my mood was high, I seemed normal, even buoyant. I felt smarter. I had secrets. I could see God in a light bulb

I admire anyone who rids himself of an addiction.

A romantic, I think, picks the rose and is careless with the thorn.

The things we ignore often come back to us in our sleep.

Wealth, beauty, and fame are transient. When those are gone, little is left except the need to be useful.

A peace talk is always difficult, always complicated.

Whatever the consequences of staying true to yourself, they're much less than the consequences of selling your soul.

None of us can know what we are capable of until we are tested.

Everyone needs to find something they love to do - it's not about what they have to do. You need to make it fun! So if shopping is your love and you hate exercise, walk to the shops!

I write for people who are good money managers and want to know how to be even better stewards over their money.

When a man says, "Get out of my house! what would you have with my wife?" there is no answer to be made.

The Tube is a vehicle for selling things, not for exploring ideas.

If I could even do that [playing] in a softball league, I would never miss anything about baseball.

I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.

Certainty becomes you.