By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.
One can never pay in gratitude; one can only pay ‘in kind’ somewhere else in life.
Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.
It’s funny how you can be mad at someone one moment and want to hug them the next.
We walk up the beach under the stars. And when we are tired of walking, we lie flat on the sand under a bowl of stars. We feel stretched, expanded to take in their compass. They pour into us until we are filled with stars, up to the brim.
Ideally, both members of a couple in love free each other to new and different worlds.
Communication with another person — wasn’t it the realest thing in life?
For in our family an experience was not finished, not truly experienced, unless written down or shared with another.
Grief can’t be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.
The collector walks with blinders on; he sees nothing but the prize. In fact, the acquisitive instinct is incompatible with true appreciation of beauty.
If one talks to more than four people, it is an audience; and one cannot really think or exchange thoughts with an audience.
One learns to accept the fact that no permanent return is possible to an old form of relationship; and, more deeply still, that there is no holding of a relationship to a single form. This is not tragedy but part of the ever-recurrent miracle of life and growth.
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