“The truest art I would strive for in any work would be to give the page the same qualities as earth: weather would land on it harshly; light would elucidate the most difficult truths; wind would sweep away obtuse padding.”

“At times I believed that the last page of my book and the last page of my life were one and the same, that when my book ended I'd end, a great wind would sweep through my rooms carrying the pages away, and when the air cleared of all those fluttering white sheets the room would be silent, the chair where I sat empty.”

“The weather-cock on the church spire, though made of iron, would soon be broken by the storm-wind if it did not understand the noble art of turning to every wind.”

“Any woman or man who would write the truth of their lives would write a great work. But no one has dared to write the truth of their lives.”

“It is said that most people judge themselves too harshly. I disagree. If they judged themselves harshly enough, they would come to the conclusion that they’re the last person on Earth to be judging anyone.”

“I would give you everything of myself. I would give you more in two weeks than most men would give you in a lifetime.”