The dangerous time when mechanical voices, radios, telephones, take the place of human intimacies, and the concept of being in touch with millions brings a greater and greater poverty in intimacy and human vision.

A man who lives unrelated to other human beings dies. But a man who lives unrelated to himself also dies.

My trunk, valises and my mind are overpacked.

Where the myth fails, human love begins. Then we love a human being, not our dream, but a human being with flaws.

You are the poet, you walk inside my dreams.

I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.

We must protect the minority writers because they are the research workers of literature. They keep it alive. It has been fashionable of late to seek out and force such writers into more popular channels, to the detriment of both writer and an unprepared public.