. . . maybe that's what life's all about: there's a lof of despair, but also the odd moments of beauty, where time is no longer the same . . . [like] something suspended . . . an elsewhere . . . an always within a never. Yes, that's is, an always within a never.

If you have but one friend, make sure you choose her well.

There's so much humanity in a love of trees, so much nostalgia for our first sense of wonder, so much power in just feeling our own insignificance when we are surrounded by nature...yes, that's it: just thinking about trees and their indifferent majesty and our love for them teaches us how ridiculous we are - vile parasites squirming on the surface of the earth - and at the same time how deserving of life we can be, when we can honor this beauty that owes us nothing.

We can be friends. We can be anything we want to be.

What is an aristocrat? A woman who is never sullied by vulgarity, although she may be surrounded by it.

I thought: pity the poor in spirit who know neither the enchantment nor the beauty of language.

The only purpose of cats is that they constitute mobile decorative objects.