When I was young, I thought that beauty and courage and human love were the enduring values by which I could live. The beauty of nature, of an apple-green sky in a December twilight, of sun shafts through trees, of distant mountains, the beauty of words in poetry or fine prose, fed my spirit. Courage, even a little of it, enabled me to face the disappointments that come to all young writers and to weather the disasters of the Great Depression. Human love meant for me a circle of friends and family and, above all, my brilliant and adored husband, Morgan Vining.