“Writers are always anxious, always on the run--from the telephone, from responsibilities, from the distractions of the world.”

“Brush those tears from your eyesAnd try and realizeThat from now onI'll always be true.I went awayBut I didn't mean to stayAnd I will regret it until my dying day.”

“She said the reason that love is so painful is that it always amounts to two people wanting more than two people can give.”

“Love . . . is like nature, but in reverse; first it fruits, then it flowers, then it seems to wither, then it goes deep, deep down into its burrow, where no one sees it, where it is lost from sight, and ultimately people die with that secret buried inside their souls.”

“In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things.”

“I crossed the room, and what you did was to feel my hair over and over again and in different ways, touch it, with the palm of your hand... felt it, strands of hair, with your fingers, touched it as if it were cloth, the way a child touches its favorite surfaces.”

“Life, after all, was a secret with the self. The more one gave out, the less there remained for the center--that center which she coveted for herself and recognized instantly in others. Fruits had it, the very heart of, say, a cherry, where the true worth and flavor lay. Some of course were flawed or hollow in there. Many, in fact. ”