A Prolonged Silence Ensues. The Reason For

I Often Think Of The Image Only I Can See Now, And Of Which I’ve Never Spoken. It’s Always There, In The Same Silence, Amazing. It’s The Only Image Of Myself I Like, The Only One In Which I Recognize Myself, In Which I Delight

Alcohol Doesn't Console, It Doesn't Fill Up Anyone's Psychological Gaps, All It Replaces Is The Lack Of God. It Doesn't Comfort Man. On The Contrary, It Encourages Him In His Folly, It Transports Him To The Supreme Regions Where He Is Master Of His Own Destiny.

I Have Never Waited For Anything The Way I've Waited For Today, When Nothing Will Happen.

That She Had So Completely Recovered Her Sanity Was A Source Of Sadness To Her. One Should Never Be Cured Of One's Passion.

The Solitude Of Writing Is A Solitude Without Which Writing Could Not Be Produced, Or Would Crumble, Drained Bloodless By The Search For Something Else To Write.