When you love someone you do not love them, all the time, in the exact same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships.

The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere. That is why so much of social life is exhausting; one is wearing a mask. I have shed my mask.

Duration is not a test of truth or falsehood.

I find the weight of air/Almost too great to bear.

I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God.

How one hates to think of oneself as alone. How one avoids it. It seems to imply rejection or unpopularity.

The bearing, rearing, feeding and educating of children; the running of a house with its thousand details; human relationships with their myriad pulls - women's normal occupations in general run counter to creative life, or contemplative life, or saintly life.