It was the men I deceived the most that I loved the most.

No other human being, no woman, no poem or music, book or painting can replace alcohol in its power to give man the illusion of real creation.

Their voices reach out into the empty yard, plunge deep into the hills, go right through the heart.

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

a writer is a foreign country

Men like women who write. Even though they don't say so. A writer is a foreign country.

A prolonged silence ensues. The reason for the silence is our growing interest one for the other. No one is aware of it, no one yet; no one? am I quite sure?