life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.
Personal life becomes paler as the imaginative life becomes richer.
I've seen it before. There are women who spread ruin through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too ful of life and love. They can't help it. Poeple come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter.
Desire is creation, is the magical element in that process. If there were an instrument by which to measure desire, one could foretell achievement.
The end is nothing; the road is all.
I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived.
The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.
There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.