my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.

she was consumed by 3 simple things: drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more: youth and beauty

Somebody at one of these places asked me: "What do you do? How do you write, create?" You don't, I told them. You "don't try". That's very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It's like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it. Or if you like it's looks, you make a pet out of it.

The world is full of boring, identical and mindless people.

sometimes I hate you," she said.

it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.

I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.