Writing only leads to more writing.

I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.

I went to collect the few personal belongings which...I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.

Be happy. It's one way of being wise.

Chance, my master and my friend, will, I feel sure, deign once again to send me the spirits of his unruly kingdom. All my trust is now in him- and in myself. But above all in him, for when I go under he always fishes me out, seizing and shaking me like a life-saving dog whose teeth tear my skin a little every time. So now, whenever I despair, I no longer expect my end, but some bit of luck, some commonplace little miracle which, like a glittering link, will mend again the necklace of my days.

Time spent with a cat is never wasted.

By an image we hold on to our lost treasures, but it is the wrenching loss that forms the image, composes, binds the bouquet.