There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.

There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.

I reserve the right to love many different people at once, and to change my prince often.

There is an ugliness in being paid for work one does not like.

We speak of the masculine and the feminine, but they are the wrong labels. It is really more a matter of poetry versus intellectualization.

There is no denying that we are suffering from a collective neurosis and the novel which does not face this is not a novel of our time.

I miss the animal buoyancy of New York, the animal vitality. I did not mind that it had no meaning and no depth.