Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.

When one is pretending the entire body revolts.

Physical experiences, lacking the joys of love, depend on twists and perversions of pleasure. Abnormal pleasures kill the taste for normal ones.

Through love, through friendship, a heart lives more than one life.

We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them.

We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art--we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.

In music I feel most deeply the passing of things.