She must find a boat and sail in it. No guarantee of shore. Only a conviction that what she wanted could exist, if she dared to find it.

Oh what a grind it is embodying all these ideas and having perpetually to expose my mind, opened and intensified as it is by the heat of creation, to the blasts of the outer world. If I didn’t feel so much, how easy it would be to go on.

Apparently, he was too busy living his own life to be a character in the imaginary novel that was mine.

Orestes: Neither slave nor master. I am my freedom. No sooner had you created me than I ceased to be yours.

I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.

Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s.

But down deep, at the molecular heart of life, we’re essentially identical to trees.

this was because she knew few words and believed in none, and in the world she was rather silent.