What you take to be hyprocrisy is sometimes a certain caution, sometimes genuine, though ponderous, childish, sometimes a mixture of both.

Sometimes the Earth trembles; sometimes you can feel it breathe.

My life, which seems so simple and monotonous, is really a complicated affair of cafés where they like me and cafés where they don't, streets that are friendly, streets that aren't, rooms where I might be happy, rooms where I shall never be, looking-glasses I look nice in, looking-glasses I don't, dresses that will be lucky, dresses that won't, and so on.

Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone.

I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness.

Next week, or next month, or next year I will kill myself. But I might as well last out my month's rent, which has been paid up.

Of course she had some pathetic illusions about herself or she would not be able to go on living.