The tender word forgotten, The letter you did not write, The flower you might have sent, dear, Are your haunting ghosts tonight

There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again.

Creative genius is a divinely bestowed gift which is the coronation of the few.

In the whole round of human affairs little is so fatal to peace as misunderstanding.

The soft strings of the lute rippled with memories, and the maid's lilting voice made Mary sigh as she closed her eyes. She fell asleep filled with sadness, but without regret.

Don't be scared," Willa Mae said.
I looked at her. "Aren't you scared?"
Willa Mae looked at me and said, "Shoot. Only thing I'm afraid of is that I'm going to do something I'll regret."
"Being scared is just one more thing to turn into what you want it to be," Willa Mae said. "The thing with fear is, it's like anger. You've got to change it into something else. Make it your weapon. Some can just turn it into smarts. The best of 'em can turn fear and anger into love." She looked out toward our neighborhood. "I'm not there yet.