What do you want most to do? That's what I have to keep asking myself, in the face of difficulties.

The truth is that every true admirer of the novels cherishes the happy thought that he alone - reading between the lines - has bcome the secret friend of their author.

How idiotic civilization is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle?

I must say, I hate money. But it's the lack of it I hate most.

What is it with me? Am I absolutely nobody, but merely inordinately vain? I do not know…. But I am most fearfully unhappy. That is all. I am so unhappy that I wish I was dead—yet I should be mad to die when I have not yet lived at all.

Could we change our attitude, we should not only see life differently, but life itself would come to be different.

My love for you tonight is so deep and tender that it seems to be outside myself as well.