I am never any one of my attitudes, any one of my actions.
Wait a minute, there's a snag somewhere; something disagreeable. Why, now, should it be disagreeable?...Ah,I see; it's life without a break.
Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it any more. My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.
Neither sex, without some fertilization of the complimentary characters of the other, is capable of the highest reaches of human endeavor.
Something begins in order to end: an adventure doesn't let itself be extended it achieves significance only through its death.
Her eyes stare at me but she seems not to see me; she looks as though she were lost in her suffering.