Do let him read the papers. But not while you accusingly tiptoe around the room, or perch much like a silent bird of prey on the edge of your most uncomfortable chair. (He will read them anyway, and he should read them, so let him choose his own good time.) Don't make a big exit. Just go. But kiss him quickly, before you go, otherwise he might think you are angry; he is used to suspecting he is doing something wrong.

It's the friend you call up at four o'clock in the morning that really matters.

Lover's words: “How beautiful you are, now that you love me.”

[On Orson Welles:] When I talk to him, I feel like a plant that's been watered.

Grumbling is the death of love

Duties are what make life most worth living. Lacking them, you are not necessary to anyone.

The air and the sky seem to have been freshly washed and polished, and the people too.