When writing goes painfully, when it’s hideously difficult, and one feels real despair (ah, the despair, silly as it is, is real!)–then naturally one ought to continue with the work; it would be cowardly to retreat. But when writing goes smoothly–why then one certainly should keep on working, since it would be stupid to stop. Consequently one is always writing or should be writing.

My self is all to me. I don't have any need of you.

After love a formal feeling comes.

Running! If there's any activity happier, more exhilarating, more nourishing to the imagination, I can't think of what it might be.

I'm sure all that you've heard is just the usual gossip, invented to injure feelings rather than illuminate truth.

Sometimes I stumble upon a wonderfully irresistible to me voice, unexpectedly.

A good, sympathetic review is always a wonderful surprise.