Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies.
Silences have a climax, when you have got to speak.
The wish to lead out one's lover must be a tribal feeling; the wish to be seen as loved is part of one's self-respect.
Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat.
No object is mysterious. The mystery is your eye.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
Never to lie is to have no lock on your door, you are never wholly alone.
If you look at life one way, there is always cause for alarm.
Pity the selfishness of lovers: it is brief, a forlorn hope; it is impossible.
Illusions are art, for the feeling person, and it is by art that we live, if we do.
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