An all-time classic, one of my favorites, first read when I was maybe 10 years old. My love of money and desire to own things and be rich made it super interesting to me…sadly, I have no money, don’t own much and sure ain’t rich.
“To eat bread without hope is still slowly to starve to death.”
“Love cannot be forced, love cannot be coaxed and teased. It comes out of heaven, unasked and unsought.”
“Many people lose the small joys in the hope for the big happiness.”
“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him… a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”
“I feel no need for any other faith than my faith in the kindness of human beings. I am so absorbed in the wonder of earth and the life upon it that I cannot think of heaven and angels.”
“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that’s where you renew your springs that never dry up. ”