How hard it is to escape from places. However carefully one goes they hold you — you leave little bits of yourself fluttering on the fences — like rags and shreds of your very life.

if one really does try to find out why it is that people don't leave each other, one discovers a mystery. It is because they can't; they are bound. And nobody on earth knows what are the bonds that bind them except those two.

We can do whatever we wish to do provided our wish is strong enough. But the tremendous effort needed- one doesn't always want to make it-does one? ... But what else can be done? What's the alternative? What do you want most to do? That's what I have to keep asking myself, in the face of difficulties.

If only one could tell true love from false love as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools.

There are in life as many aspects as attitudes towards it, and aspects change with attitudes.

Wind moving through grass so that the grass quivers. This moves me with an emotion I don't even understand.

The mind I love must have wild places.