Worrying helps you some – it seems as if you were doing something when you’re worrying.
That is one consolation when you are poor – there are so many more things you can imagine about.
There must be a limit to the mistakes one person can make, and when I get to the end of them, then I’ll be through with them. That’s a very comforting thought.
That’s the worst of growing up, and I’m beginning to realize it. The things you wanted so much when you were a child don’t seem half so wonderful to you when you get them.
Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing.
I don’t like green Christmases. They’re not green – they’re just nasty faded browns and grays.
One can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things.
I love pretty things; and I hate to look in the glass and see something that isn’t pretty. It makes me feel so sorrowful – just as I feel when I look at any ugly thing. I pity it because it isn’t beautiful.
It’s delightful to have ambitions. I’m so glad I have such a lot. And there never seems to be any end to them – that’s the best of it. Just as soon as you attain to one ambition you see another one glittering higher up still. It does make life so interesting.
If the path set before her feet was to be narrow she knew that flowers of quiet happiness would bloom along it. The joy of sincere work and worthy aspiration and congenial friendship were to be hers; nothing could rob her of her birthright of fancy or her ideal world of dreams.