The inner chambers of the soul are like the photographer's darkroom. Like a laboratory. One cannot stay there all the time or it becomes the solitary cell of the neurotic.

I reserve the right to love many different people at once, and to change my prince often.

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

[On Paris:] A city never entirely known, yet which gives you the feeling of intimacy, of possessing it intimately.

I am a winged creature who is too rarely allowed to use its wings. Ecstasies do not occur often enough.

I really believe that if I were not a writer, not a creator, not an experimenter, I might have been a very faithful wife. I think highly of faithfulness. But my temperament belongs to the writer, not to the woman

She walked in the shadow of Rango with a great feeling of being taken out of herself, of having no knowledge of what was happening to her, merely a pervading sense of flow.