The misery stayed, not thought about but aching away, and sometimes I would have to ask myself, Why do I ache? Men can get used to anything, but it takes time.

The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness.

Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper.

A man so painfully in love is capable of self-torture beyond belief.

My own journey started long before I left, and was over before I returned.

Don't make everyone know about your sadness.

I think today if we forbade our illiterate children to touch the wonderful things of our literature, perhaps they might steal them and find secret joy.