Not a lawyer but carries within him the debris of a poet.

Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

But, in her life, nothing was going to happen. Such was the will of God! The future was a dark corridor, and at the far end the door was bolted.

As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from one end of the keyboard to the other without a stop.

She was as sated with him as he was tired of her. Emma had rediscovered in adultery all the banality of marriage.

The smooth folds of her dress concealed a tumultuous heart, and her modest lips told nothing of her torment. She was in love.

An infinity of passion can be contained in one minute, like a crowd in a small space.

...those works that don't touch the heart, it seems to me, miss the true aim of Art.

Of all the icy blasts that blow on love, a request for money is the most chilling.

Financial demands, of all the rough winds that blow upon our love, (are) quite the coldest and the most biting.

And she felt as though she had been there, on that bench, for an eternity. For an infinity of passion can be contained in one minute, like a crowd in a small space.

Live in the now

We do it, Jackson, because compassion must be louder than pride.

God has never, in the history of mankind, allowed his name to go long offended.

Man might have identified fire, but women identified the way to enjoy with it.

Your unhappiness ultimately arises not from the circumstances of your life but from the conditioning of your mind.

Two full time-outs. I could eat lunch with that long.

Many women have earned titles, Your Grace. It doesn't seem to have been a factor in whether or not they actually received them.

What chance gathers, she easily scatters. A great person attracts great people and knows how to hold them together.

I do love translating; it is the pure pleasure of writing without the misery of inventing.

We learn what poetry is - if we ever learn - by reading it.