No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.
People ask me why I write. I write to find out what I know.
You can't think how I depend on you, and when you're not there the colour goes out of my life.
Though we see the same world, we see it through different eyes. Any help we can give you must be different from that you can give yourselves, and perhaps the value of that help may lie in the fact of that difference.
A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.
My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life.
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.
Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you
I am rooted, but I flow.
Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.
How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?
Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.
For beyond the difficulty of communicating oneself, there is the supreme difficulty of being oneself.
Be truthful, and the result is bound to be amazingly interesting.
A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life
I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.
I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything.
I like to have space to spread my mind out in.
I'm terrified of passive acquiescence. I live in intensity.
And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.
Until we can comprehend the beguiling beauty of a single flower, we are woefully unable to grasp the meaning and potential of life itself.
Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.
If people are highly successful in their professions they lose their sense. Sight goes. They have no time to look at pictures. Sound goes. They have no time to listen to music. Speech goes. They have no time for conversation. Humanity goes. Money making becomes so important that they must work by night as well as by day. Health goes. And so competitive do they become that they will not share their work with others though they have more themselves. What then remains of a human being who has lost sight, sound, and sense of proportion? Only a cripple in a cave.
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