United States writer who wrote about frontier life (1873-1947)

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Where there is great love, there are always wishes.
I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.
No one can build his security upon the nobleness of another person.
Only solitary men know the full joys of frienship. Others have their family but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.
She used to drag her mattress besider her low window and lie awake for a long while, vibrating with excitement, as a machine vibrates from speed. Life rushed in upon her through that window - or so it seemed. In reality, of course, life rushes from within, not from without. There is no work of art so big or so beautiful that is was not once all contained in some youthful body, like this one which lay on the floor in the moonlight, pulsing with ardor and anticipation.
Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.
The dead might as well try to speak to the living as the old to the young.
There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.
Winter lies too long in country towns hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.

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