The absolute yearning of one human body for another particular body and its indifference to substitutes is one of life's major mysteries.

Falling out of love is chiefly a matter of forgetting how charming someone is.

All artists dream of a silence which they must enter, as some creatures return to the sea to spawn.

There is no triumph of good, and if there were it would not be a triumph of good.

Then I felt too that I might take this opportunity to tie up a few loose ends, only of course loose ends can never be properly tied, one is always producing new ones. Time, like the sea, unties all knots. Judgements on people are never final, they emerge from summings up which at once suggest the need of a reconsideration. Human arrangements are nothing but loose ends and hazy reckoning, whatever art may otherwise pretend in order to console us.

Daytime sleep is a cursed slumber from which one wakes in despair.

Remember that the secret of all learning is patience and that curiosity is not the same thing as a thirst for knowledge.