In poverty she is envious. In riches she may be a snob. Money does not change the sickness, only the symptoms

Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone.

Man has become our greatest hazard, and our only hope.

When I face the desolate impossibility of writing five hundred pages, a sick sense of failure falls on me, and I know I can never do it. Then gradually, I write one page and then another. One day's work is all I can permit myself to contemplate.

If you find yourself in a fair fight, your tactics suck.

It would be good to live in a perpetual state of leave-taking, never to go nor to stay, but to remain suspended in that golden emotion of love and longing; to be loved without satiety.

All of them had a restlessness in common.