In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.

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But I don't think of the future, or the past, I feast on the moment. This is the secret of happiness, but only reached now in middle age.

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There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair, exasperated. Not in dreams; but here and now, in this room, with living people. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.

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I always had the deepest affection for people who carried sublime tears in their silences.

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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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I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me.

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I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything.

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A light here required a shadow there.

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Incessant company is as bad as solitary confinement.

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A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life

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