The happiness of others is never bearable for very long.

One can never speak enough of the virtues, the dangers, the power of shared laughter.

I shall live badly if I do not write, and I shall write badly if I do not live.

People respect unhappiness and find it especially hard to forgive success.

Marriage? It's like asparagus eaten with vinaigrette or hollandaise, a matter of taste but of no importance.

A Strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the grave and beautiful name of sorrow. The idea of sorrow has always appealed to me but now I am almost ashamed of it's complete egoism. I have known boredom, regret, and occasionally remorse, but never sorrow. Today it envelops me like a silken web, enervating and soft, and sets me apart from everybody else.

Love is worth whatever it costs.