the knowledge of personal failure ... is the invaluable predicate of all honest compassion.

I had forgotten what sleep is like - a kingdom all its own.

In the range of my character at any given moment, I have acted in the only way it seemed to me I could have acted. This in no way means that I have done what was right; only what was possible for me. Sometimes I have done what I knew was wrong, and have rationalized. But rationalization is a form of desperation. It takes kindness to forgive oneself for one's life.

Art comes into the highest part of the mind, that with which we can know the presence of God.

Generosity is often the stalking horse of control.

The art of being officially old seems to lie in cooperative submission.

I come to the point of using steel, and simply cannot. It's like the marriage proposal of a perfectly eligible man who just isn't loveable. It is wood I love.