I like Australia less and less. The hateful newness, the democratic conceit, every man a little pope of perfection.

America exhausts the springs of one's soul - I suppose that's what it exists for. It lives to see all real spontaneity expire. But anyhow it doesn't grind on an old nerve as Europe seems to.

The difference between people isn't in their class, but in themselves. Only from the middle classes one gets ideas, and from the common people--life itself, warmth. You feel their hates and loves.

Oh the innocent girl in her maiden teens knows perfectly well what everything means.

I believe the nearest I've come to perfect love was with a young coal-miner when I was about 16.

One man isn't any better than another, not because they are equal, but because they are intrinsically other, that there is no termof comparison.

It is only when men lose their contact with this eternal life-flame, and become merely personal, things in themselves, instead ofthings kindled in the flame, that the fight between man and woman begins.