The only history is a mere question of one's struggle inside oneself. But that is the joy of it. One need neither discover Americas nor conquer nations, and yet one has as great a work as Columbus or Alexander, to do.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.

You love me so much, you want to put me in your pocket. And I should die there smothered.

For God's sake, all of you, say spiteful things about me, then I shall know I mean something to you. Don't say surgaries, or I'm done.

The sense of wonder, that is our sixth sense.

When I read Shakespeare I am struck with wonder that such trivial people should muse and thunder in such lovely language.

Sleep seems to hammer out for me the logical conclusions of my vague days, and offer them to me as dreams.