You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.
I went to collect the few personal belongings which...I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.
It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.
Put down everything that comes into your head and then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff's worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.
There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.
Hope costs nothing.
In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge.
What a wonderful life I’ve had! I only wish I’d realized it sooner.
I love my past. I love my present. I'm not ashamed of what I've had, and I'm not sad because I have it no longer.
When she raises her eyelids, it's as if she were taking off all her clothes.
I want nothing from love, in short, but love.