I feel all shadows of the universe multiplied deep inside my skin.

I need silence, and to be alone and to go out, and to save one hour to consider what has happened to my world, what death has done to my world.

I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me. I need not flatter any man; he has nothing to give me.

There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death.

The telephone, which interrupts the most serious conversations and cuts short the most weighty observations, has a romance of its own.

To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.

But it is just when opinions universally prevail and we have added lip service to their authority that we become sometimes most keenly conscious that we do not believe a word that we are saying.