She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.

Quite like old times,' the room says.

Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.

All of a writer that matters is in the book or books. It is idiotic to be curious about the person.

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

I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness.

When you are a child you are yourself and you know and see everything prophetically. And then suddenly something happens and you stop being yourself; you become what others force you to be. You lose your wisdom and your soul.