she acquired the certainty of the expansion of time by depth of emotion, range and infinite multiplicity of experience.

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

Not afraid of poverty and drabness and who is untouched by it, untouched by the drunkenness of her friends; (she) who judges, selects, discards people with severity, who knows, when she is telling her endless anecdotes, that they are ways of escape, keeping herself all the more secret behind that profuse talk.

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.

What you burnt, broke, and tore is still in my hands. I am the keeper of fragile things and I have kept of you what is indissoluble.

Beware of allowing a tactless word, a rebuttal, a rejection to obliterate the whole sky

The final lesson a writer learns is that everything can nourish the writer.