If one talks to more than four people, it is an audience; and one cannot really think or exchange thoughts with an audience.

These bright roofs, these steep towers, these jewel-lakes, these skeins of railroad line - all spoke to her and she answered. She was glad they were there. She belonged to them and they to her.

Geniuses were like storms or cyclones, pulling everything into their path, sticks and stones and dust.

We are always bargaining with our feelings so that we can live from day to day.

... once you get beyond the crust of the first pang it is all the same and you can easily bear it. It is just the transition from painlessness to pain that is so terrible.

Why is life speeded up so? Why are things so terribly, unbearably precious that you can't enjoy them but can only wait breathless in dread of their going?

Who is not afraid of pure space - that breathtaking empty space of an open door?