Life has puffed and blown itself into a summer day, and clouds and spring billow over the heavens as if calendars were a listing of mathematical errors.

without you, dearest dearest I couldn't see or hear or feel or think - or live - I love you so and I'm never in all our lives going to let us be apart another night.

Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.

It's terrible to allow conventional habits to gain a hold on a whole household; to eat, sleep and live by clock ticks.

One illusion is as good as another.

Youth doesn't need friends -- it only needs crowds.

A vacuum can only exist, I imagine, by the things which enclose it.