Whatever happens I have had these blissful, perfect moments and they are worth living for.

I feel I must live alone, alone, alone - with artists only to touch the door. Every artist cuts off his ear and nails it on the outside of the door for the others to shout into.

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

Bless you, my darling, and remember you are always in the heart - oh tucked so close there is no chance of escape - of your sister.

To long for everything: sorrow; to accept everything: joy.

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

I think of you often. Especially in the evenings, when I am on the balcony and it’s too dark to write or to do anything but wait for the stars. A time I love. One feels half disembodied, sitting like a shadow at the door of one’s being while the dark tide rises. Then comes the moon, marvellously serene, and small stars, very merry for some reason of their own. It is so easy to forget, in a worldly life, to attend to these miracles.