For sleep, one needs endless depths of blackness to sink into; daylight is too shallow, it will not cover one.

By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.

The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to.

Perhaps middle-age is, or should be, a period of shedding shells; the shell of ambition, the shell of material accumulations and possessions, the shell of the ego

Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after.

The loneliness you get by the sea is personal and alive. It doesn't subdue you and make you feel abject. It's stimulating loneliness.