But such occasions of excellence became less and less frequent. As her technique became sounder, [her] sincerity became less necessary.

Throughout the hours of the night, though there had been few to hear it, the whole sky had been loud with the singing of these constellations.

[Camila] was quite incapable of establishing any harmony between the claims of her art, of her appetites, or her dreams, and of her crowded daily routine. Each of these was a world in itself.

The knowledge that she would never be loved in return acted upon her ideas as a tide acts upon cliffs.

Either we live by accident and die by accident, or we live by plan and die by plan.

She did not suspect that the Abbess was even there hovering about the house, herself estimating the stresses and watching for the moment when a burden harms and not strengthens.

But while they continued staring into one another’s face waiting for the miracle of science the pain grew worse.

Perhaps she would learn in time to permit both her daughter and her gods to govern their own affairs.

The art of biography is more difficult than is generally supposed.

I love to move like a mouse inside this puzzle for the body, balancing the wish to be lost with the need to be found.

Am I as admirable as that ant?

The older you get, the more you start to realize that you can't win an argument in a relationship. You can't win a fight with your woman. Because if you lose, you lose. And if you win, you lose.

I cry at everything, even the length of the queue at Sainsbury's.

I'm in my dream world.

My own sense of family, where I came from and what I made for myself is an important part of my life.

PAIN was no longer a cause of suffering, but a source of pleasure, Because they were redeeming humanity from its sins. Pain becomes joy, the meaning of life, pleasure.

The only sin is the sin of being born.

Gold looks good on my skin, and gold looks good on black people, I think.

For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude