Every little girl knows about love. It is only her capacity to suffer because of it that increases.

Unhappiness has nothing to teach, and resignation is ugly.

Art must take reality by surprise. It takes those moments which are for us merely a moment, plus a moment, plus another moment, and arbitrarily transforms them into a special series of moments held together by a major emotion.

I did not find him absurd. I saw he was kind, that he was on the verge of real love. I thought it would be nice for me to be in love with him, too.

For me writing is a question of finding a certain rhythm. I compare it to the rhythms of jazz.

We are torn between the craving to know and the despair of having known.

I always believe things are going to work out.