We are going to the moon that is not very far. Man has so much farther to go within himself.

I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

Keeping a Diary all my life helped me to discover some basic elements essential to the vitality of writing.

When one is pretending the entire body revolts.

The leaf fall of his words, the stained glass hues of his moods, the rust in his voice, the smoke in his mouth, his breath on my vision like human breath blinding a mirror.

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

For too many centuries women have been being muses to artists. I wanted to be the muse, I wanted to be the wife of the artist, but I was really trying to avoid the final issue — that I had to do the job myself.