... I'd always rather be with people who loved me too little rather than with people who loved me too much.

we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves.

To be alive and to be a ‘writer’ is enough.

Looking back, I imagine I was always writing. Twaddle it was too. But better far write twaddle or anything, anything, than nothing at all.

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

Oh, impossible. Fancy cream puffs so soon after breakfast. The very idea made one shudder. All the same, two minutes later Jose and Laura were licking their fingers with that absorbed inward look that only comes from whipped cream.

... I'd always rather be with people who loved me too little rather than with people who loved me too much.