It's so easy to make a person who hasn't got anything seem wrong.

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.

It was the darkness that got you. It was heavy darkness, greasy and compelling. It made walls round you, and shut you in so that you felt like you could not breathe.

...I know all about myself now, I know. You've told me so often. You haven't left me one rag of illusion to clothe myself in.

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.

They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.