Being free to suffer alone is itself a consolation.

...For I do now know that it is cowardly. We do not have the right to think only of poetry on this earth. It is magical, but utterly selfish.

Now that everybody thinks he looks a little Slavic, it annoys me. I don't want that to be the reason I find him charming. I found him charming for no reason, because he is who he is.

The impression that what is extraordinary is real, and that the real is the extraordinary.

What will become of me? I do not know where am I going or what tomorrow will bring.

There can be no deeper despair, no pain less easy to assuage, than losing a husband when you are young.

I really don't know what's happened to me, but I have changed from top to toe. I am living in a strange mixture of memories of yesterday and today.

It's a wonderful, inspiring feeling to have real friends who love and understand you. I have never had that feeling before.

There is beauty in the midst of tragedy. As if beauty were condensing in the heart of ugliness. It's very strange.

This book made me feel strangely awkward, because I'm afraid of finding my own story in it. I take books too seriously.