“The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.”

I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?

Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.

The Soul selects her own Society.

But a Book is only the Heart’s Portrait- every Page a Pulse.

Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.

That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.

The possible’s slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.

Judge tenderly of me.

The only Commandment I ever obeyed – ‘Consider the Lilies.

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.

They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.

This is my letter to the world that never wrote to me.

The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.

Does not Eternity appear dreadful to you. I often get to thinking of it and it seems so dark to me that I almost wish there was no Eternity. To think that we must forever live and never cease to be. It seems as if Death would be a relief to so endless a state of existence.

If you take care of the small things, the big things take care of themselves. You can gain more control over your life by paying closer attention to the little things.

I don’t have wild dogs chasing people with scripts away from my door. I get my share. I’ve done okay. But I usually do independent stuff because that’s mostly what I’m offered.

When you oppress people either by gender, by race, by sexual orientation, when you do that and the doors become ajar, they will fly open and they will come and they have.

My kids hear me behind my door, giggling like an idiot, and they roll their eyes at the blatant indignity of it all.

We are so used to the notion of our own inevitability as life’s dominant species that it is hard to grasp that we are here only because of timely extraterrestrial bangs and other random flukes.

I’ve been saying that all along, that if you open the door for gay marriage, then you have to have the polygamists and the triads and the commune people and everybody else, right?

Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one.

I love everything about motels. I can’t help myself. I still get excited every time I slip a key into a motel room door and fling it open.

The library was a little old shaby place. Francie thought it was beautiful. The feeling she had about it was as good as the feeling she had about church. She pushed open the door and went in.