The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.

I was stirred only like a leaf in the wind, that is all. . .

I miss the animal buoyancy of New York, the animal vitality. I did not mind that it had no meaning and no depth.

I know why families were created with all their imperfections. They humanize you. They are made to make you forget yourself occasionally, so that the beautiful balance of life is not destroyed.

I must know, he thinks. It must be clear to me. There is a world which is closed to him, a world of shadings, gradations, nuances, and subtleties. He is a genius and yet he is too explicit. June slips between his fingers. You cannot posses without loving.

Memory is a great betrayer.

Self-destructive patterns cause as much suffering as outer catastrophes.