You seem to take things so personally, hating people and worshipping them--always thinking people are so important--especially yourselves. You just ask to be kicked around. I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it--on the inside.

It is not necessarily poverty of spirit that makes a woman surround herself with life - it can be a superabundance of interest.

Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.

It was dawn now on Long Island and we went about opening the rest of the windows downstairs, filling the house with gray-turning, gold-turning light. The Shadow of a tree fell abruptly across the dew and ghostly birds began to sing among the blue leaves. There was a slow, pleasant movement in the air, scarcely a wind, promising a cool, lovely day.

I've been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library.

I wish I could write. I get these ideas but I never seem to be able to put them in words.

Switzerland is a country where very few things begin, but many things end.