I'm trying to die correctly, but it's very difficult, you know.

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.

These are the moments which are not calculable, and cannot be assessed in words; they live on in the solution of memory, like wonderful creatures, unique of their own kind, dredged up from the floors of some unexplored ocean.

A woman's best love letters are always written to the man she is betraying.

Guilt always hurries towards its complement, punishment: only there does its satisfaction lie.

All artists today are expected to cultivate a little fashionable unhappiness.

I am just a refugee from the long slow toothache of English life. It is terrible to love life so much you can hardly breathe!