“You have to digest life. You have to chew it up and love it all through.”

“Knowing he was suffering pained me. That’s the way love tangles you up. I couldn’t stop loving him, and couldn’t shut off the feelings of wanting to care for him— but I also didn’t have to run to answer his letters. I was hurting, too, and no one was running to me.”

“You make your life with someone and you love that person and you think it's enough. But it's never enough, is it?I couldn't say. I don't know anything about love anymore.”

“In Paris, you couldn’t really turn around without seeing the result of lovers’ bad decisions. An artist given to sexual excess was almost a cliché, but no one seemed to mind. As long as you were making something good or interesting or sensational, you could have as many lovers as you wanted and ruin them all.”

“My life was my life; I would have to stare it down, somehow, and make it work for me.”

“Why is it every other person you meet says they're an artist? A real artist doesn't need to gas on about it, he doesn't have time. He does his work and sweats it out in silence, and no one can help him at all.”

“But love is love. It makes you do terribly stupid things.”