I have a very great fear of love. It is so personal. Let each bird fly with its own wings, and each fish swim its own course.--Morning brings more than love. And I want to be true to the morning.

Nothing but love has made the dog lose his wild freedom, to become the servant of man.

I never know when I sit down, just what I am going to write. I make no plan; it just comes, and I don't know where it comes from.

One sheds one's sicknesses in books - repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them.

A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.

The whole point about the true unconscious is that it is all the time moving forward, beyond the range of its own fixed laws or habits. It is no good trying to superimpose an ideal nature upon the unconscious.

In the short summer night she learned so much. She would have thought a woman would have died of shame... She felt, now, she had come to the real bedrock of her nature, and was essentially shameless. She was her sensual self, naked an unashamed. She felt a triumph, almost a vainglory. So! That was how it was! That was life! That was how onself really was! There was nothing left to disguise or be ashamed of. She shared her ultimate nakedness with a man, another being.