I am not ready to die, / But I am learning to trust death / As I have trusted life.

There are some griefs so loud/They could bring down the sky/And there are griefs so still/None knows how deep they lie.

I think that passion if really intense is always destructive if not to the two involved, always to other people.

...I feel more alive when I'm writing than I do at any other time--except when I'm making love. Two things when you forget time, when nothing exists except the moment--the moment of writing, the moment of love. That perfect concentration is bliss.

It's extraordinary how little two people can understand each other and how cruel two people who are fond of each other can be to each other - there is practically no cruelty so awful because their power to hurt is so great.

The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.

Flowers and plants are silent presences. They nourish every sense except the ear.