The difference between you and me is that you think to live and I live to think.

Women who are not living ought to spend all their time cracking jokes. In a rotten society women grow witty; making a heaven while they wait.

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 will all go on as long as women are stupid enough to go on bringing men into the world. . .

Every thought vibrates through the universe.

In the midst of the happiness they brought there was always a lurking shadow. The shadow of incompatibility; of the impossibility of being at once bound and free. The garden breeds a longing for the wild; the wild a homesickness for the garden.

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