How long does it have to go on? This punishment? Haven't I done time enough, haven't I served my term? can't I apply for a-pardon?

He was a boy, just a boy, when I was a very young girl. When I was sixteen, I made the discovery - love. All at once and much, much too completely. It was like you suddenly turned a blinding on something that had always been half in shadow, that's how it struck the world for me. But I was unlucky. Deluded.

It's hard enough for me to write what I want to write without me trying to write what you say they want me to write which I don't want to write.

In memory everything seems to happen to music.

Nobody sees anybody truly, but all through the flaws of their own ego.

There is no pleasure in the world like writing well and going fast. It's like nothing else. It's like a love affair, it goes on and on, and doesn't end in marriage. It's all courtship.

You can be young without money but you can't be old without it.