“The world is beginning to move past me like the banks of a hedge when the train starts, like the waves of the sea when a steamer moves.”

“We inflict on the world the injury of some obliquity.” 

“Here are hate, jealousy, hurry, and indifference frothed into the wild semblance of life. These are our companions.”

“Death is woven in with the violets.” 

“I need an audience. That is my downfall. That always ruffles the edge of the final statement and prevents it from forming. I cannot seat myself in some sordid eating-house and order the same glass day after day and imbue myself entirely in one fluid–this life.”

“I hate all details of the individual life. But I am fixed here to listen. An immense pressure is on me. I cannot move without dislodging the weight of centuries.”