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

My true friends have always given me that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man I loved.

Sit down and put down everything that comes into your head and then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff's worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.

If he's getting married, he's not longer interesting.

In the matter of furnishing, I find a certain absence of ugliness far worse than ugliness.

No one asked you to be happy. Get to work.

I am indebted to the cat for a particular kind of honorable deceit, for a greater control over myself, for a characteristic aversion to brutal sounds, and for the need to keep silent for long periods of time.