I want nothing from love, in short, but love.

When she raises her eyelids it's as if she were taking off all her clothes.

I believe there are more urgent and honorable occupations than the incomparable waste of time we call suffering.

Books, books, books. It was not that I read so much. I read and re-read the same ones. But all of them were necessary to me. Their presence, their smell, the letters of their titles, and the texture of their leather bindings.

To a poet, silence is an acceptable response, even a flattering one.

Hope costs nothing.

I am going away with him to an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untried heart.