But luxury has never appealed to me, I like simple things, books, being alone, or
with somebody who understands.
If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.
Happiness is not a possession to be prized, it is a quality of thought, a state of mind.
I wish I was a woman of about thirty-six dressed in black satin with a string of pearls.
I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.
I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.
Men are simpler than you imagine my sweet child. But what goes on in the twisted, tortuous minds of women would baffle anyone.
Writers should be read, but neither seen nor heard.
I have no talent for making new friends, but oh such genius for fidelity to old ones.
Because I want to; because I must; because now and forever more this is where I belong to be.