But oh — time has become such a torture, a slow torture. One tries to capture a piece of time that lies ahead and is full of light . . . but thinking about that just makes this awful black time even blacker.
I daresay anything can be made holy by being sincerely worshipped.
There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for-granted relationship.
People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
In philosophy if you aren't moving at a snail's pace you aren't moving at all.
I think being a woman is like being Irish. Everyone says you're important and nice, but you take second place all the same.