A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.

I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.

To learn and think; to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.

If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.

I feel self-repressed again. The old fall disease. Where is my willpower? The idea of a life gets in the way of my life...I dream too much, work too little.

The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.

I can't deceive myself out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that character is fate, nothing is real, past or future, when you are alone in your room with the clock ticking loudly into the false cheerful brilliance of the electric light. And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.