A romantic man often feels more uplifted with two women than with one: his love seems to hit the ideal mark somewhere between two different faces.
But to be quite oneself one must first waste a little time.
She walked about with the rather fated expression you see in photographs of girls who have subsequently been murdered, but nothing had so far happened to her.
When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.
Writers do not find subjects; subjects find them.
[T]here is a flaw in civilization from the instant it has to admit fear.
[U]ntruths are thieves, robbing us of a birthright.
Experience isn't interesting until it begins to repeat itself — in fact, till it does that, it hardly is experience.
"What's the matter with this country is the matter with the lot of us individually— our sense of personality is a sense of outrage and we'll never get outside of it."But the hold of the country was that, she considered, it could be thought of in terms of oneself, so interpreted.
Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat.
And yet in a way I would rather fail point blank. Things one can do have no value. I don't mind feeling small myself, but I dread finding the world is.
The heart may think it knows better: The senses know that absence blots people out. We have really no absent friends.
It is thought that women inspire by their beauty; more often they do so by their longings.
I am sick of the governessy attitude of our age, which is coming to be more genuinely presumptuous, nosier and more busybody than the Victorian.
Intimacies between women go backwards, beginning in revelations and ending up in small talk without loss of esteem.
