She was in that flagging mood when to go on living seems only to load more unmeaning moments on to your memory.

First love, with its frantic haughty imagination, swings its object clear of the everyday, over the rut of living, making him all looks, silences, gestures, attitudes, a burning phrase with no context

The importance to the writer of first writing must be out of all proportion of the actual value of what is written.

I think the main thing, don't you, is to keep the show on the road.

Nobody speaks the truth when there is something they must have.

Who is ever adequate? We all create situations each other can't live up to, then break our hearts at them because they don't.