For women, history does not exist. Murasaki, Sappho, and Madame Lafayette might be their own contemporaries.

For women, history does not exist. Murasaki, Sappho, and Madame Lafayette might be their own contemporaries.

There is only one pleasure-that of being alive. All the rest is misery.

Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

Will power is only the tensile strength of one's own disposition. One cannot increase it by a single ounce.

When writing poetry, it is not that produces a bright idea, but the bright idea that kindles the fire of.

The man who cannot live with charity, sharing other men's pain, is punished by feeling his own with intolerable anguish.