When the heart is flooded with love there is no room in it for fear, for doubt, for hesitation.

It is terribly amusing how many different climates of feelings one can go through in one day.

The collector walks with blinders on; he sees nothing but the prize. In fact, the acquisitive instinct is incompatible with true appreciation of beauty.

I am beginning to respect the apathetic days. Perhaps they're a necessary pause: better to give in to them than to fight them at your desk hopelessly; then you lose both the day and your self-respect. Treat them as physical phenomena -- casually -- and obey them.

The beach is not the place to work; to read, write or think.

When one is a stranger to oneself, then one is estranged from others, too.

Can one make the future a substitute for the present? And what guarantee have we that the future will be any better if we neglect the present?