Beauty cannot disguise nor music melt A pain undiagnosable but felt.

Marriage should, I think, always be a little bit hard and new and strange. It should be breaking your shell and going into another world, and a bigger one.

We walk up the beach under the stars. And when we are tired of walking, we lie flat on the sand under a bowl of stars. We feel stretched, expanded to take in their compass. They pour into us until we are filled with stars, up to the brim.

Only in growth, reform, and change, paradoxically enough, is true security to be found.

Fame is a kind of death because it arrests life around the person in the public eye. If one is recognized everywhere, one begins to feel like Medusa. People stop their normal life and actions and freeze into staring manikins. "We can never catch people or life unawares," as I wrote to my mother, in an outburst of frustration. "It is always looking at us."

How hard it is to have the beautiful interdependence of marriage and yet be strong in oneself alone.

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?