"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other." — Rainer Maria Rilke

All the soarings of my mind begin in my blood.

There may be good, but there are no pleasant marriages.

It is a tremendous act of violence to begin anything. I am not able to begin. I simply skip what should be the beginning.

There are so many things about which some old man ought to tell one while one is little; for when one is grown one would know them as a matter of course.