“Until one looks back on one’s own past one fails to realise what an extraordinary view of the world a child has.”

Do you know my friend that each one of us is a dark mystery, a maze of conflicting passions and desire and aptitudes?

No innocent person ever has an alibi.

A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

With thought, all problems can be resolved.

The human face is, after all, nothing more nor less than a mask.

One knows so little. When one knows more it is too late.

If one sticks too rigidly to one’s principles, one would hardly see anybody.

An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her.

Time is the best killer.

The saddest thing in life and the hardest to live through, is the knowledge that there is someone you love very much whom you cannot save from suffering.

It is deplorable to remove all the romance – all the mystery!

Any coincidencce is worth noticing. You can throw it away later if it is only a coincidence.

The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances.

One never quite allows for the moron in our midst.

Writers are diffident creatures — they need encouragement.

It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.

A child has no trouble believing the unbelievable, nor does the genius or the madman. It’s only you and I, with our big brains and our tiny hearts, who doubt and overthink and hesitate.

Women are the centre of the family. It’s the woman who decides what’s eaten in the house, when to have the kids vaccinated; everything that has to do with the children’s health revolves around her.

I have a woman’s body and a child’s emotions.

In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.

I was made for more than being stuck in a vicious cycle of defeat. I am not made to be a victim of my poor choices. I was made to be a victorious child of God.

Only after the Last Judgment will Mary get any rest; from now until then, she is much too busy with her children.

I grew up without a father, so I have to be on point for my kids.

We can believe in the future and work to achieve it and preserve it, or we can whirl blindly on, behaving as if one day there will be no children to inherit our legacy. The choice is ours; the earth is in balance.