How describe the delicate thing that happens when a brilliant insect alights on a flower? Words, with their weight, fall upon the picture like birds of prey.
There are no friends; only moments of friendship.
I find that when I do not think of myself I do not think at all.
Style is to forget all styles.
In the most complete friendship there is always a little empty space, like the space in an egg.
You can recover from the writing malady only by falling mortally ill and dying.