In those days, I still thoroughly enjoyed the romance I called "by myself"; I didn't know yet how it gets lonely, picks up a sharp edge later on that ruins a day now and then-- ruins more than that, if you're not careful.

He can't really love anyone, you know, and in the end such people are always alone, no matter how much other people once loved them.

Sometimes people damage paintings or sculpture because they love it. They throw their arms around a statue in a fit of hysterical passion and it falls over.

If there is any good in life, in history, in my own past, I invoke it now. I invoke it with all the passion with which I have lived.

It was good to walk into a library again; it smelled like home.

The problem is simply finding the right person. Ask Plato. Just make sure she finishes your thoughts and you finish hers. That's all you need.

The heart does not go backward. Only the mind.