We all live in suspense, from day to day, from hour to hour; in other words, we are the hero of our own story.

The suspense of a novel is not only in the reader, but in the novelist, who is intensely curious about what will happen to the hero.

[The spirits moved inside the cottonwood branches to listen to the words coming from the villages.] See now, ... Look at the end of the broken off branch. If you see a star in the center, then this is a good place, where people speak kindly of one another.

The labor of keeping house is labor in its most naked state, for labor is toil that never finishes, toil that has to be begun again the moment it is completed, toil that is destroyed and consumed by the life process.

People with bad consciences always fear the judgment of children.

Understanding is often a prelude to forgiveness, but they are not the same, and we often forgive what we cannot understand (seeing nothing else to do) and understand what we cannot pardon.