Keep Making The Movements Of Life.

The Practice Of "reviewing"... In General Has Nothing In Common With The Art Of Criticism.

I Recall My Fleeting Instants In Savannah As The Taste Of A Cup Charged To The Brim.

My Idea Is This, That When You Only Love A Little You're Naturally Not Jealous — Or Are Only Jealous Also A Little, So That It Doesn't Matter. But When You Love In A Deeper And Intenser Way, Then You're In The Very Same Proportion Jealous; Your Jealousy Has Intensity And, No Doubt, Ferocity.

I Would Give All I Possess To Get Out Of Myself; But Somehow, At The End, I Find Myself So Vastly More Interesting Than Nine Tenths Of The People I Meet.

Things Are Always Different Than What They Might Be...if You Wait For Them To Change, You Will Never Do Anything.