A taste older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water.

Music was invented to confirm human loneliness.

I am quite alone. I am neither happy nor unhappy; I lie suspended like a hair or a feather in the cloudy mixtures of memory.

How grudging memory is, and how bitterly she clutches the raw material of her daily work.

I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time - those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.

Truth is a woman. That is why it is enigmatic.

Life is like a cucumber. One minute it's in your hand, the next it's up you ass.