He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

Learn from your dreams what you lack.

The center that I cannot find is known to my unconscious mind.

You know there are no secrets in America. It's quite different in England, where people think of a secret as a shared relation between two people.

A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.