“From time to time I meet people who live among riches I cannot even imagine. I still have to make an effort to realize that others can feel envious of such wealth. A long time ago, I once lived a whole week luxuriating in all the goods of this world: we slept without a roof, on a beach, I lived on fruit, and spent half my days alone in the water. I learned something then that has always made me react to the signs of comfort or of a well-appointed house with irony, impatience, and sometimes anger. Although I live without worrying about tomorrow now, and therefore count myself among the privileged, I don't know how to own things. What I do have, which always comes to me without my asking for it, I can't seem to keep. Less from extravagance, I think, than from another kind of parsimony: I cling like a miser to the freedom that disappears as soon as there is an excess of things.”

“I shall live alone. Always alone. In a house or a tree.'Fuchsia started to chew at a fresh grass blade.'Someone will come then, if I live alone. Someone from another kind of world - a new world - not from this world, but someone who is different, and he will fall in love with me at once because I live alone and aren't like the other beastly things in this world, and he'll enjoy having me because of my pride.”

“A long time ago, I opened a book, and this is what I found inside: a whole new world. It isn't the world I live in, although sometimes it looks a lot like it. Sometimes, though, it feels closest to my world when it doesn't look like it at all. That world is enormous, yet it all fits inside an everyday object. I don't have to keep everything I find there, but what I choose to take with me is more precious than anything I own, and there is always more where that came from. The world I found was inside a book, and then that world turned out to be made of even more books, each of which led to yet another world. It goes on forever and ever. At nine I thought I must get to Narnia or die. It would be a long time before I understood that I was already there.”

“A woman owes it to herself to have pretty things. And if she feels good she looks good.You are wrong if you think you cannot live without love.I cannot live without it. I do not mean that I go into a decline, develop odd symptons, became a caricature. I mean that I cannot live well without it. I cannot think or act or speak or write or even dream with any kind of energy in the absence of love. I feel excluded from the living world. I become cold, fish-like, immobile. I implode. My idea of absolute happiness is to sit in a hot garden all day, reading or writing, utterly safe in the knowledge that the person I love will come home to me in the evening. Every evening. I am not a romantic. I am a domesticated animal. I do not sigh and yearn for extravagant displays of passion, for the grand affair, the world well lost for love. I know all that, and know that it leaves you lonely. No, what I crave is the simplicity of routine. An evening walk, arm in arm, in fine weather. A game of cards. Time for idle talk. Preparing a meal together.”

“And without you is how I disappear,And live my life alone forever now.And without you is how I disappear,And live my life alone forever now.Who walks among the famous living dead,Drowns all the boys and girls inside your bed.And if you could talk to me,Tell me if it's so,That all the good girls go to heaven.Well, heaven knowsThat without you is how I disappear,And live my life alone forever now.And without you is how I disappear,And live my life alone forever now.Can you hear me cry out to you?Words I thought I'd choke on figure out.I'm really not so with you anymore.I'm just a ghost, So I can't hurt you anymore,And now, you wanna see how far down I can sink?Let me go, fuck!So, you can, well now so, you canI'm so far away from you.Well now so, you can.And without you is how I disappear,And without you is how I disappear,Whoa whoa... (And without you is how I disappear)Whoa whoa... (And without you... is how, is how, is how...)Forever, forever now!”

“Sometimes we dream of things that we've always wanted--of things that we have been searching for our whole lives without knowing it...and other times we wake up and know what we have to do. I have to write...so I do.”