I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.
Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live.
When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others.
My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.
Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it.
People living deeply have no fear of death.
It’s all right for a woman to be, above all, human. I am a woman first of all.
What I cannot love, I overlook. Is that real friendship?
Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.
I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.
Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.
It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.
There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do.
The human father has to be confronted and recognized as human, as man who created a child and then, by his absence, left the child fatherless and then Godless.
If all of us acted in unison as I act individually there would be no wars and no poverty. I have made myself personally responsible for the fate of every human being who has come my way.