Why do you do up your hair in those tortured plaits, now, Melanie? Why? Because, she said. You know that's no answer. You're spoiling your pretty looks, pet. Come here. She did not move. He ground out his cigarette on the window-ledge and laughed. Come here, he said again, softly. So she went.

What a joy it is to dance and sing!

Anxiety is the beginning of conscience, which is the parent of the soul but is not compatible with innocence.

Vengeful as nature herself, she loves her children only in order to devour them better and if she herself rips her own veils of self-deceit, Mother perceives in herself untold abysses of cruelty as subtle as it is refined.

I should have liked to have had him beside me in a glass coffin, so that I could watch him all the time and he would not have been able to get away from me.

Reciprocity of sensation is not possible because to share is to be robbed.

I haven't changed much, over the years. I use less adjectives, now, and have a kinder heart, perhaps.