Death must be got through as life had been, just somehow.

No future life could heal the degradation of having been a woman. Religion in the world had nothing but insults for women.

Men would always rather be made love to than talked at.

The joy of a party is the newness of people to each other, renewed strikingness of humanity. They love each other, to distraction. Really to distraction. Before they fall into conversation and separate. ... The strangeness, and the hopes aroused by strangeness, are illusions. Mirages arising wherever people gather expectantly together.

It's only in silence that you can judge of your relationship to a person.

Quotations are feeble; you always regret making them.

Every thought vibrates through the universe.