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All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to m...more

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I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else.

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In this very special self-hypnotic state there can be no question of getting out of touch with on[e]self and floating into a normal sleep (unless you ...more

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Good by-aye!" she chanted, my American sweet immortal dead love; for she is dead and immortal if you are reading this.

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My darling, what a cat they have! Something perfectly stupendous. Siamese, in colour dark beige, or taupe, with chocolate paws and the tail the same. ...more

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[S]urely the Cupid serving him was lefthanded, with a weak chin and no imagination.

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For some reason, I kept seeing it—it trembled and silkily glowed on my damp retina—a radiant child of twelve, sitting on a threshold, "pinging" pebble...more

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One last word,' I said in my horrible careful English, 'are you quite, quite sure that—well, not tomorrow, of course, and not after tomorrow, but—well...more

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I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No ma...more