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"March 22nd (a miserable Sunday). Time is like a well whose shaft goes down to death—to my death—to my perdition. The gulf of time: how I shudder to look down on time! My death is at its bottom and its dank breath mounts up and chills me."

"No date. My life and I. Can I 'think' my life? When I come to grips with the sense of these two words 'my life', it seems that all meaning has deserted them. There is my past: there is also the feeling of a pulsating Now. But is all this really my life? My past, in so far as I consider it, ceases to be my past."

"November 28th. A sentence came to my lips as I looked at a dog lying down outside a shop. 'There is something called being alive, and something else called active existence. I have chosen the latter.'"

"April 10th. I see the clear necessity, this morning, of substituting the question 'Am I my life?' for 'Am I my body?'"

"A withered flower fell from the geranium at that moment, with a soft tissue-paper noise. One flower less."

"Gangster dream: I am walking with an older couple."

"Absently she dabbed stale Chanel behind her ears and at once smelled so like her mother that she glanced at herself in the mirror to make sure she was still Melanie."

"The secret of a full life is to live and relate to others as if they might not be there tomorrow, as if you might not be there tomorrow. It eliminates the vice of procrastination, the sin of postponement, failed communications, failed communions. This thought has made me more and more attentive to all encounters, meetings, introductions, which might contain the seed of depth that might be carelessly overlooked."

"Ultimate giving is fatal. I split, split, split, into a million small relationships. And I seek split beings. Divided beings."

"[...] and he remains there,¹ thinking.²

¹ Goes away forever.
² Thinking of nothing. With no purpose in life now. With a new purpose in life. Making a novena to Pope John XXIII. Becoming a forester (mountain guide, tramp, minor, water bearer)."

"[...] is dead.¹ He walks in the woods,²

¹ Sick. Has become a prostitute. Has lost her faith. Has returned to the faith. Has left for France. Is still performing the humble little daily tasks as always.
² On the superhighway. Near Idroscalo. Through immaculate snow. In the halls of a totally alienated advertising agency."

"She¹ walks away.²

¹ He. Both he and she.
² Remains there. Toys for a long time with an object. Starts to leave, then stops, puzzled, comes back a couple of paces, then goes off again. Doesn't go away, but the camera dollies back. Looks at the camera without any expression as he touches her scarf."

"She was sleeping flat on her face, her tortoiseshell pins standing out boldly from the rest of the horizontal figure. The train of her tunic prolonged her delicate little body; her arms were stretched crosswise, the sleeves spread out like wings. She looked like a dead fairy; or still more did she resemble some great dragon-fly, which, having alighted on that spot, some unkind hand had pinned to the floor."

"Nothing in our bodies was born in order that we might be able to use it, but the thing born creates the use."

"Nature is free and uncontrolled by proud masters and runs the universe by herself without the aid of gods."

"Even if I knew nothing of the atoms, I would venture to assert on the evidence of the celestial phenomena themselves, supported by many other arguments, that the universe was certainly not created for us by divine power: it is so full of imperfections."

“Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.”

"When twilight drops her curtain down
And pins it with a star
Remember that you have a friend
Though she may wander far."

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?"

“It's all very well to read about sorrows and imagine yourself living through them heroically, but it's not so nice when you really come to have them, is it?”

468. Some bad qualities make great talents.

541. Wisdom is to the soul what health is to the body.

550. It is more important to study men than books.

600. Self-love sees to it that the person who flatters us is never our greatest flatterer.

119. We are so used to disguising ourselves from others that we end by disguising ourselves from ourselves.

211. Some people are like popular songs that you only sing for a short time.

271. Youth is one long intoxication: it is reason in a fever.

"80. What makes us so unstable in our friendships is that it is difficult to get to know qualities of soul but easy to see those of the mind."

“And yet you will; and yet another 'yet.'"

"In order to change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one's mind and psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use. I keep nothing to remind me of the passage of time, deterioration, loss, shriveling."

"Deep down I feel an understanding of those who revolt against the slavery of work, but I have also seen those who rebelled against the system harm themselves beyond repair."

“If a lady were to ask me I’d say love dwells in memory, moves in memory, is formed by memory, just as the evening light was formed in the curtains that screened it—but no lady asks.”

"But I'm not dressing for you. I belong to another world."

"To relate to others' dreams, I myself had to see that the houseboat was more than a houseboat, it had meaning, it represented the quest for independence, the need to imagine one's self traveling, moving in experience and not static, and that this unconscious myth had been dreamed by other men as they dream of desert islands, the heart of Africa, sailing a boat alone, etc."

*insert image of the folded wings of an angel or dove*