Perhaps it was freedom itself that choked her.
Every man is his own law court and punishes himself enough.
My New Year’s Eve Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle — may they never give me peace. (New Year's Eve, 1947)
Honesty, for me, is usually the worst policy imaginable.
The night was a time for bestial affinities, for drawing closer to oneself.
One situation – maybe one alone – could drive me to murder: family life, togetherness.