I cannot concentrate all my friendship on any single one of my friends because no one is complete enough in himself.
I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason.
I was stirred only like a leaf in the wind, that is all. . .
The unconscious can become destructive if it is disregarded and thwarted.
... and the very folds of the curtains contained secrets and sighs.
Writers do not live one life, they live two. There is the living and then there is the writing. There is the second tasting, the delayed reaction.