I always had the deepest affection for people who carried sublime tears in their silences.
A light here required a shadow there.
But I don't think of the future, or the past, I feast on the moment. This is the secret of happiness, but only reached now in middle age.
We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.
Long ago I realized that no other person would be to me what you are.
If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.
What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.
And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.
Arrange whatever pieces come your way.
One must learn to be silent just as one must learn to talk.
I'm sick to death of this particular self. I want another.
No passion is stronger in the breast of a man than the desire to make others believe as he believes. Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high.
The interest in life does not lie in what people do, nor even in their relations to each other, but largely in the power to communicate with a third party, antagonistic, enigmatic, yet perhaps persuadable, which one may call life in general.
The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.
Incessant company is as bad as solitary confinement.
Do not move, do not go. Sink within this moment. Hold it for ever.
One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.
How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.
The only advice ... that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions.
In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.
But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful.
I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.
Never pretend that the things you haven't got are not worth having.
I feel that by writing I am doing what is far more necessary than anything else.
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