My trunk, valises and my mind are overpacked.

Warmth, perfume, rugs, soft lights, books. They do not appease me. I am aware of time passing, of all the world contains that I have not seen, of all the interesting people I have not met.

A war regarded as inevitable or even probable, and therefore much prepared for, has a very good chance of eventually being fought.

New York has an electronic heart.

I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly.

I had been struck by the analogy between neurosis and romanticism. Romanticism was truly a parallel to neurosis. It demanded of reality an illusory world, love, an absolute which it could never obtain, and thus destroyed itself by the dream.

You fall in love with people's minds.