In a way Winter is the real Spring - the time when the inner things happen, the resurgence of nature.

Ideally I'd like to spend two evenings a week talking to Proust and another conversing with the Holy Ghost.

I did not sleep. I never do when I am over-happy, over-unhappy, or in bed with a strange man.

it is not good to repudiate the dead because then they do not leave you alone, they are like dogs that bark intermittently at night.

Writers really live in the mind and in hotels of the soul.

You have to be lonely to be a writer

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