One reason why my memory decays is that I have three cats, all so loving and insistent that they play cat's-cradle with every train of thought. They drove me distracted while I was having influenza, gazing at me with large eyes and saying: O Sylvia, you are so ill, you'll soon be dead. And who will feed us then? Feed us now!

I seem to use this word 'kind' very frequently. When one is unhappy or anxious it is a quality one dwells on.

Total grief is like a minefield. No knowing when one will touch the tripwire.

Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.

... possessiveness cannot accept; it cannot even strike a fair bargain; it has to confer.

cooking is the most succulent of human pleasures.

Slowly, with a look of intense concentration, he got up and advanced on me ... put out a front paw, and stroked my cheek as I used to stoke his chops. A human caress from a cat. I felt very meagre and ill-educated that I could not purr.