You have, like the external world, your own phenomena inside.

It would not be practical for her to hate herself. Luckily, God sends a substitute, a husband.

Death is the black backing on the mirror that allows us to see anything at all.

There is an immense, painful longing for a broader, more flexible, fuller, more coherent, more comprehensive account of what we human beings are, who we are and what this life is for.

The body, she says, is subject to the force of gravity. But the soul is ruled by levity, pure.

I am more stupid about some things than others; not equally stupid in all directions; I am not a well-rounded person.

Death is the dark backing a mirror needs if we are to see anything