i'm in a muddle about a lot of things -- i've just discovered that i've a mind, and i'm starting to read" "read what?" "everything. i have to pick and choose, of course, but mostly things that make me think.

Great art is the contempt of a great man for small art.

She was overstrained with grief and loneliness: almost any shoulder would have done as well.

He's sensitive and I don't want him to break his heart over somebody who doesn't care about him.

Kiss me now, love me now.

Then it had not been merely the stars to which he had aspired on that June night. He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendour.

I just couldn't make the grade as a hack-that, like everything else, requires a certain practiced excellence.