To think of losing is to lose already.

It is best as one grows older to strip oneself of possessions, to shed oneself downward like a tree, to be almost wholly earth before one dies.

Anticipation of pleasure is a pleasure in itself.

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

My grandmother was unsurpassable at sitting. She would sit on tombstones, glaciers, small hard benches with ants crawling over them, fragments of public monuments, other people's wheelbarrows, and when one returned one could be sure of finding her there, conversing affably with the owner of the wheelbarrow.

Young people are careless of their virginity; one day they may have it and the next not.

Love amazes, but it does not surprise.