I often want to cry. That is the only advantage women have over men — at least they can cry.

You can pretend for a long time, but one day it all falls away and you are alone. We are alone in the most beautiful place in the world.

And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?

I long to be ... Like Other People! The extraordinary, ungetatable, oddly cruel Other People, with their way of wantonly hurting and then accusing you of being thin-skinned, sulky, vindictive or ridiculous.

Everything tender and melancholy - as life is sometimes, just for one moment.

A room? A nice room? A beautiful room? A beautiful room with bath? Swing high, swing low, swing to and fro...This happened and that happened... And then the days came and I was alone.

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.