I don't believe other people are ever as foolishly excited as I am while I'm working. How could they be? Writers would have to live in trees.

Children are unaccountable little creatures.

I am going to enjoy life in Paris I know. It is so human and there is something noble in the city... It is a real city, old and fine and life plays in it for everybody to see.

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

Letters are the real curse of my existence. I hate to write them: I have to. If I don't, there they are - the great guilty gates barring my way.

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

You might drop your heart into me and you'd never hear it touch bottom.