In her presence I could dare everything: sincerity, emotion, pathos.

Man reckons with immortality, and forgets to reckon with death.

Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding.

she loved to walk down the street with a book under her arm. It had the same significance for her as an elegant cane for the dandy a century ago. It differentiated her from others.

Metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with.

A single metaphor can give birth to love.

Great novels are always a little more intelligent than their authors.