Prose is architecture, not interior decoration, and the Baroque is over.
I wish I had died before I ever loved anyone but her.
Having books published is very destructive to writing.
I suppose if a man has something once, always something of it remains.
I had an inheritance from my father, It was the moon and the sun. And though I roam all over the world, The spending of itโs never done.
I did not understand them but they did not have any mystery, and when I understood them they meant nothing to me. I was sorry about this but there was nothing I could do about it.