You are the poet, you walk inside my dreams...
I love your silences, they are like mine.
There is a fissure in my vision and madness will always rush through.
I am quite wiling to confide entirely in human being, except that at some moment or another human beings get preoccupied, moody, busy, inattentive, and there come an end to the interest, and this never happens in a journal!
There is a resemblance between men and women, not a contrast. When a man begins to recognize his feeling, the two unite. When men accept the sensitive side of themselves, they come alive.
We speak of the masculine and the feminine, but they are the wrong labels. It is really more a matter of poetry versus intellectualization.
Travel is seeking the lost paradise. It is the supreme illusion of love.
One may gain one truth at the expense of another.
If you are terribly truthful, the ground will always move from under you, and you will have to shift with the constantly shifting truth.
Descendants of pigeons once fed by Keats, Byron, George Sand, Chopin and many other famous lovers are still being fed, and the sudden sound when they all rise together, frightened away, is like the sound of giant sails flapping.
I am a failure as a writer. The publishers won’t publish me, the bookshops won’t carry my books, the critics won’t write about me. I am excluded from all anthologies, and completely ignored.
We must protect the minority writers because they are the research workers of literature. They keep it alive. It has been fashionable of late to seek out and force such writers into more popular channels, to the detriment of both writer and an unprepared public.
To write is to descend, to excavate, to go underground.
The one who travels like a lover searching for a new passion is suddenly blessed with new eyes, new ears, new senses.
Self-destructive patterns cause as much suffering as outer catastrophes.
Introspection is a devouring monster.
In every relationship, sooner or later, there is a court scene. Accusations, counter-accusations, a trial, a verdict.
We love best those who are, or act for us, a self we do not wish to be or act out.
The child who is uprooted begins to recognize that what he builds within himself is what will endure, what will withstand shattering experiences.
The shell is America’s most active contribution to the formation of character. A tough hide. Grow it early.