The means of defense against foreign danger historically have become the instruments of tyranny at home.

As much as I would love to be a person that goes to parties and has a couple of drinks and has a nice time, that doesn't work for me. I'd just rather sit at home and read, or go out to dinner with someone, or talk to someone I love, or talk to somebody that makes me laugh.

I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumors to my dogs.

I love cats because I enjoy my home and little by little, they become its visible soul.

What power can poverty have over a home where loving hearts are beating with a consciousness of untold riches of the head and heart?