war is a thug's game. The thug strikes first and harder. He doesn't go by rules and he isn't afraid of hurting people.

Him that I love, I wish to be free -- even from me.

One learns first of all in beach living the art of shedding; how little one can get along with, not how much.

You can’t just write and write and put things in a drawer. They wither without the warm sun of someone else’s appreciation.

people talk about 'sex' as though it hopped about by itself, like a frog!

Perhaps middle-age is, or should be, a period of shedding shells; the shell of ambition, the shell of material accumulations and possessions, the shell of the ego.

How inexplicable it seems. Anything else will be accepted as a better excuse. If one sets aside time for a business appointment, a trip to the hairdresser, a social engagement or a shopping expedition, that time is accepted as inviolable. But if one says: I cannot come because that is my hour to be alone, one is considered rude, egotistical or strange.