The world is before you, and you need not take it or leave it as it was when you came in.

I was guilty and irritated and full of love and pain. I wanted to kick him and I wanted to take him in my arms.

The writer's greed is appalling. He wants, or seems to want, everything and practically everybody, in another sense, and at the same time, he needs no one at all.

People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become, and they pay for it, very simply, by the lives they lead.

Hatred is always self hatred, and there is something suicidal about it.

Everything in life depends on how that life accepts its limits.

An identity would seem to be arrived at by the way in which the person faces and uses his experience.