the more i live, the more i realize what strange creatures human beings are. some of them might just as well have a hundred legs, like a centipede, or six, like a lobster. the human consistency and dignity one has been led to expect from one's fellow-man seem actually non-existent. one doubts if they exist to any startling degree even in oneself.

When each thing is unique in itself, there can be no comparison made.... There is only this strange recognition of present otherness.

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul.

The journey of love has been rather a lacerating, if well-worth-it, journey.

I am sure no other civilization, not even the Romans, has showed such a vast proportion of ignominious and degraded nudity, and ugly, squalid dirty sex. Because no other civilization has driven sex into the underworld, and nudity to the W.C.

I'd be ashamed to see a woman walking around with my name-label on her, address and railway station, like a wardrobe trunk.

The map appears to us more real than the land.