Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live.

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness.

The one who travels like a lover searching for a new passion is suddenly blessed with new eyes, new ears, new senses.

The woman will sit eternally in the tall black armchair. I will be the one woman you will never have...excessive living weighs down the imagination: we will not live, we will only write and talk to swell the sails.

There are books which we read early in life, which sink into our consciousness and seem to disappear without leaving a trace. And then one day we find, in some summing-up of our life and put attitudes towards experience, that their influence has been enormous.

Nature forms us for ourselves, not for others; to be, not to seem.