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

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Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.

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The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.

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Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.

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I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.

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Love had a thousand shapes.

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Intimacy is a difficult art.

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Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.

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I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.

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I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and music and everything beautiful.

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