How was she to tie herself to a man without permitting him to imprison her? And was there some means of acquiring things without those things possessing her?

Love is so much more deadly than I had thought, love is so much inherent as the very lack, and we are guaranteed by a need to be renewed continuously. Love is now, is forever. There is just the blow of grace - call it passion.

Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?

I write as if to save somebody’s life. Probably my own. Life is a kind of madness that death makes. Long live the dead because we live in them.

I, who called love my hope for love.

Even great men are only truly recognized and honored once they are dead. Why? Because those who praise them need to feel themselves somehow superior to the person praised, they need to feel they are making some concession.

I just know that I don't want cheating. I refuse. I deepened myself but I don't believe in myself because my thought is invented.