..he made me understand something very important. Whether because I am a Latin, or because I am a neurotic, I have a need of gestures. I am myself expressive, demonstrative; every feeling I have takes on expression: words, gestures, signs, letters, articulateness or action. I need this in others.

The value of the personal relationship to all things is that it creates intimacy and intimacy creates understanding and understanding creates love.

I cannot concentrate all my friendship on any single one of my friends because no one is complete enough in himself.

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

Death from disillusion is not instantaneous, and there are no mercy killers for the disillusioned.

I only regret that everybody wants to deprive me of the journal, which is the only steadfast friend I have, the only one which makes my life bearable, because my happiness with human beings is so precarious, my confiding moods rare, and the least sign of non-interest is enough to silence me. In the journal I am at ease.

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