Every word I say has chains round its ankles; every thought I think is weighted with heavy weights.

You imagine the carefully pruned, shaped thing that is presented to you is truth. That is just what it isn't. The truth is improbable, the truth is fantastic; it's in what you think is a distorting mirror that you see the truth.

Have all beautiful things sad destinies?

One realized all sorts of things. The value of an illusion, for instance, and that the shadow can be more important than the substance. All sorts of things.

I would never be part of anything. I would never really belong anywhere, and I knew it, and all my life would be the same, trying to belong, and failing. Always something would go wrong. I am a stranger and I always will be, and after all I didn’t really care.

Every word I say has chains round its ankles; every thought I think is weighted with heavy weights.

I took the red dress down and put it against myself. 'Does it make me look intemperate and unchaste?' I said.