I want to tell you, don't marry suffering. Some people do. They get married to it, and sleep and eat together, just as husband and wife. If they go with joy they think it's adultery.

A novel is balanced between a few true impressions and the multitude of false ones that make up most of what we call life.

A man must have limits and cannot give in to the wild desires to be everything and everyone and everything to everyone.

One way or another the no doubt mad idea entered my mind that my own actions had historic importance and this fantasy (?) made it appear that people who harmed me were interfering with an important experiment.

Ninety per cent of life is a nightmare, do you think I am going to get it rounded up to hundred per cent?

I love solitude, but I prize it most when plenty of company is available.

...I am much better now at ambiguities.