Neither of us knows what the public will think. There's no doubt in my mind that I have found out how to begin (at forty) to say something in my own voice; and that interests me so that I feel I can go ahead without praise.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

One likes people much better when they're battered down by a prodigious siege of misfortune than when they triumph.

No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.

Fear no more, says the heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, lets fall

Marvelous are the innocent.

I’m not clear enough in the head to feel anything but varieties of dull anger and arrows of sadness.