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Once I knew the depth where no hope was, and darkness lay on the face of all things.

If happiness is to be so measured, I who cannot hear or see have every reason to sit in a corner with folded hands and weep.

It lets us into the soul of things and teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.

A man must understand evil and be acquainted with sorrow before he can write himself an optimist and expect others to believe that he has reason for the faith that is in him.

Doubt and mistrust are the mere panic of timid imagination, which the steadfast heart will conquer, and the large mind transcend.

Every struggle is a victory.

For, after all, every one who wishes to gain true knowledge must climb the Hill Difficulty alone, and since there is no royal road to the summit, I must zigzag it in my own way.

Had it not been for the persistent encouragement of Miss Sullivan, I think I should have given up trying to write altogether.

As I look back on my struggle to write that little story, it seems to me that I must have had a prophetic vision of the good that would come of the undertaking, or I should surely have failed.

Joy deserted my heart, and for a long, long time I lived in doubt, anxiety and fear.

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.

I can say with conviction that the struggle which evil necessitates is one of the greatest blessings. It makes us strong, patient, helpful men and women.