[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.

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.

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

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.

Solitude with God is a place for pregnancy.

Your ego does not need to be crushed, it needs to be redeemed.

It's excellence in leadership when everyone wants to manufacture a black shoe and you manufacture a designer black shoe with gold medal on top. Do something new

I wrote a song called "Green Day" because I was smoking a lot of dope.

SIN: Self-Inflicted Nonsense

Look not for refuge to anyone beside yourself. Heed fast to the truth as a lamp.

Do not sit idle, for indeed death is seeking you

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

There are writers who can express in as little as twenty pages what I occasionally need as many as two for.

Once the pathological low self-esteem goes, that's when things go downhill.