Even the contemplative life is only an effort, Nora my dear, to hide the body so the feet won’t stick out.
Djuna BarnesNone of us suffers as much as we should, or loves as much as we say. Love is the first lie; wisdom the last.
Djuna BarnesWhen autumn shadows throw their patterns across the land, they are not the images of fragile, dying leaves, not the bared arms of lofty elms, not shadows of a fading summer; but swinging shapes as of books upon a strap, of round and square boxes held under an arm, of hurrying little people heading towards the nearest school.
Djuna Barnes