When I wrote my book I wanted to love someone. I wanted to be in love. Now I know that I shall never be in love - and I no longer wish to be.

When I was three years old I was taken with my family to a little town in Western Minnesota, where I lived a more or less vapid and ordinary life until I was ten.

I do not see any beauty in self-restraint.

The world is like a little marsh filled with mint and white hawthorn.

Fame is indeed beautiful and benign and gentle and satisfying, but happiness is something at once tender and brilliant beyond all things.

I am lithe, but fragile from constant involuntary self-analysis.

Genius of a kind has always been with me; an empty heart that has taken on a certain wooden quality; an excellent, strong woman's body and a pitiably starved soul.

A genius who does not know that he is a genius is no genius.

I do not sing nor play, but I adore music, particularly Chopin. I like him because I cannot understand him.

One must always say things that aim to interest, because in the world one must after all pay for one's keep.

I read of the Kalamazoo girl who killed herself after reading the book. I am not at all surprised. She lived in Kalamazoo, for one thing, and then she read the book.

Monsters don’t get happy endings.

Know that I love you immensely, and you hurry home.

Satan will make your own principles and inclinations to betray you.

I've wanted recognition I wanted success I wanted appreciation I love the perks of being in the movies. I love the fame that comes with it - but that's why I became an actor.

The earth here is beautiful. And it still belongs to the dead.

Unreal. I'm feeling nostalgic for something that happened less than twenty-four hours ago. This has got to be a record.

We are creatures on this planet that have the capacity of self-awareness, playing out our role just the same as all else.

There are an infinite number of rewards you could bestow on yourself for working at your creative projects, and you deserve every one of them.

Not everyone is a debtor who wishes to be; not everyone who wishes makes creditors.

Was true love when you wanted to slap someone and kiss him madly at the same time?