To eat bread without hope is still slowly to starve to death.
PEARL S. BUCK, To My Daughters, With Love
It is difficult not to wonder whether that combination of elements which produces a machine for labor does not create also a soul of sorts, a dull resentful metallic will, which can rebel at times.
PEARL S. BUCK, My Several Worlds: A Personal Record
Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied.
PEARL S. BUCK, What America Means to Me