Nothing arrives on paper as it started, and so much arrives that never started at all. To write is always to rave a little-even if one did once know what one meant

without fiction, either life would be insufficient or the winds from the north would blow too cold.

Proust has pointed out that the predisposition to love creates its own objects; is this not also true of fear?

When you love someone all your saved up wishes start coming out.

Some ideas, like dandelions in lawns, strike tenaciously: you may pull off the top but the root remains, drives down suckers and may even sprout again.

Education is not so important as people think.

Chance is better than choice; it is more lordly. Chance is God, choice is man.