“The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life.”

“I just never felt so fantastically rocky in my entire life.”

“I hated the very idea of the eighteenth century, with all those smug men writing tight little couplets and being so dead keen on reason.”

“I wasn’t the type that got jealous, I mean I lived my entire life not being as good as my twin, so I couldn’t understand the murderous rage that was suddenly flowing through me, the sudden need to claim something, to announce to the world that she was mine...”

“I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn. But, and that is the greatest question, will I ever be able to write anything great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer? I hope so, oh, I hope so very much, for I can recapture everything when I write, my thoughts, my ideas and my fantasies.”

“If I may so express it, I was steeped in Dora. I was not merely over head and ears in love with her, but I was saturated through and through. Enough love might have been wrung out of me, metaphorically speaking, to drown anybody in; and yet there would have remained enough within me, and all over me, to pervade my entire existence.”