Oh, how good it is to be with someone, sometimes.

He wanted to pay her; he thought women ought to be paid for keeping men from dying or going out of their minds.

In heterosexual love there's no solution. Man and woman are irreconcilable, and it's the doomed attempt to do the impossible, repeated in each new affair, that lends heterosexual love its grandeur.

One must talk. That's how it is. One must.

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

A house means a family house, a place specially meant for putting children and men in so as to restrict their waywardness and distract them from the longing for adventure and escape they've had since time began.

I'm still there, watching those possessed children, as far away from the mystery now as I was then. I've never written, though I thought I wrote, never loved, though I thought I loved, never done anything but wait outside the closed door.