After that dark woman you search for someone who will fit into the irregular corners of your heart.

When you fall in love, it is spring no matter when. Leaves falling make no difference, they are from another season.

Writers, however mature and wise and eminent, are children at heart.

Recollection is not something that I can summon up, it simply comes and I am the servant of it.

We all leave one another. We die, we change - it's mostly change - we outgrow our best friends; but even if I do leave you, I will have passed on to you something of myself; you will be a different person because of knowing me; it's inescapable.

...people liking you or not liking you is an accident and is to do with them and not you. That goes for love too, only more so.

Promiscuity is the death of love.