Time is not a road - it is a room.

Duty is but a pot. It holds whatever is put in it, from the greatest evil to the greatest good.

I must fight with my weapons. Not his. Not selfishness and brutality and shame and resentment.

Art is a statement of one in the face of all; not a statement by one for the use of all.

One degrades oneself sometimes in the effort not to be lonely.

If you forget everything else about me, please remember this. I walked down that street and I never looked back and I love you. I love you. I love you so much that I shall hate you for ever for today.

It's no good. I've been trying to sleep for the last half-hour, and I can't. Writing here is a sort of drug. It's the only thing I look forward to. This afternoon I read what I wrote... And it seemed vivid. I know it seems vivid because my imagination fills in all the bits another person wouldn't understand. I mean, it's vanity. But it seems a sort of magic... And I just can't live in this present. I would go mad if I did