If I was bound for hell, let it be hell. No more false heaven. No more damned magic.

It was like letting go and falling back into water and seeing yourself grinning up through the water, your face like a mask, and seeing the bubbles coming up as if you were trying to speak from under the water. And how do you know what it's like to try to speak from under water when you're drowned?

Stephan was secretive and a liar, but he was a very gentle and expert lover. She was the petted, cherished child, the desired mistress, the worshipped, perfumed goddess. She was all these things to Stephan - or so he made her believe.

When I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write.

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

The perpetual hunger to be beautiful and that thirst to be loved which is the real curse of Eve.

She could give herself up to the written word as naturally as a good dancer to music or a fine swimmer to water. The only difficulty was that after finishing the last sentence she was left with a feeling at once hollow and uncomfortably full. Exactly like indigestion.