The people dreamed and fought and slept as much as ever. And by habit they shortened their thoughts so that they would not wander out into the darkness beyond tomorrow.
I am not meant to be alone and without you who understands.
His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
Resentment is the most precious flower of poverty.
She was afraid of these things that made her suddenly wonder who she was, and what she was going to be in the world, and why she was standing at that minute, seeing a light, or listening, or staring up into the sky: alone.
I do not have any home. So why should I be homesick?
Because in some men it is in them to give up everything personal at some time, before it ferments and poisons – throw it to some human being or some human idea. They have to.
There was hope in him, and soon perhaps the outline of his journey would take form.
When a person knows and can’t make the others understand, what does he do?
Sometimes this fellow’s music was like little colored pieces of crystal candy, and other times it was the softest, saddest thing she had ever imagined about.
After the first establishment of identity there comes the imperative need to lose this new-found sense of separateness and to belong to something larger and more powerful than the weak, lonely self. The sense of moral isolation is intolerable to us.
The writer by nature of his profession is a dreamer and a conscious dreamer. He must imagine, and imagination takes humility, love and great courage. How can you create a character without live and the struggle that goes with love?
A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lillies of the swamp.
The value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall.
Owing to the fact he was a mute they were able to give him all the qualities they wanted him to have.
It is music that causes the heart to broaden and the listener to grow cold with ecstasy and fright.
Once you have lived with another, it is a great torture to have to live alone.
Sunday afternoons are the longest afternoons of all...
The memories of childhood have a strange shuttling quality, and areas of darkness ring the spaces of light. The memories of childhood are like clear candles in an acre of night, illuminating fixed scenes from surrounding darkness.