Drinking isn't necessarily the same as wanting to die. But you can't drink without thinking you're killing yourself.

It's afterwards you realize that the feeling of happiness you had with a man didn't necessarily prove that you loved him.

She had lived her early years as though she were waiting for something she might, but never did, become.

I am dead. I have no desire for you. My body no longer wants the one who doesn’t love.

Alcohol doesn't console, it doesn't fill up anyone's psychological gaps, all it replaces is the lack of God. It doesn't comfort man. On the contrary, it encourages him in his folly, it transports him to the supreme regions where he is master of his own destiny.

You are what you are and that fascinates me.

I know it's not clothes that make women beautiful or otherwise, nor beauty care, nor expensive creams, nor the distinction of costliness of their finery. I know the problem lies elsewhere. I don't know where. I only know it isn't where women think.