I knew I would always want to go on living with myself, however hollow I became, however diseased.

Love is the mystery between two people, not the identity.

And I just can't live in this present. I would go mad if I did.

There cannot be any true leisure until all the world possesses it equally.

You put up with your voice and speak with it because you haven't any choice. But it's what you say that counts.

The diary will really try and tell people who you are and what you were. The alternative is writing nothing, or creating a totally lifeless, as it is leafless, garden.

That was the tragedy. Not that one man had the courage to be evil. But that millions had not the courage to be good.